The Off Season
by carpetinflight
Summary: Injured, Ginny thought she would never fly again. Can Harry help her regain her confidence and return to the sport she loves? NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Ginny leaned forward, resting her elbows on the narrow railing and watching the sky intently. She held a forgotten drink in one hand, and in the box behind her the party went on without her.

Her eyes tracked the orange-clad figures as they dipped and spun through the air, running through drills and warm-up routines that were both familiar and foreign. Her palms itched and fingers tingled, as though her hands remembered the thrumming of a broomstick and the impact of a Quaffle.

She heard footsteps from behind but did not turn her head, and in a moment, Ron stepped up to the railing beside her. Together they watched one of the Chasers barrel-roll over the cheap seats at the bottom of the stands, still filling up with spectators.

"You were better than that," he said. He was right, although she'd never say it out loud.

Her eyes stung, and she raised her cup to her lips to cover it up.

"Great party," he said, keeping his eyes on the players as they dropped out of the sky and flew down to the entrance gates. "Thanks for planning it."

"Happy birthday," she replied, nudging him with her shoulder. "Thanks for being the excuse."

He laughed. "Any time."

They fell silent as the announcer's voice filled the stadium. "Wizards and Witches," he boomed, and the crowd of Weasleys and friends that filled the luxury box hushed in excitement. "The Professional Quidditch League of Britain and Ireland is proud to present its three hundred and twenty-seventh annual championship match!" Cheering filled the stands but the magically magnified voice went on. "Now, in orange, the challengers, the Chudley Cannons… Brown, Fink, Fellows, Hebert, Flint, Carlisle, aaaaaand Potter!" The box behind Ginny erupted in cheers as Harry flew onto the pitch, his black hair shining in the sun.

The announcer went on to introduce the home team Appleby Arrows, and the stadium erupted in cheers. Ginny clapped politely when he introduced Oliver Wood, and there was a smattering of applause from the group behind her.

Through the duration of the game, Ginny stayed at the railing, watching intently as the six Chasers and four Beaters danced through the air, moving the three balls between them. Their brooms gleamed in the spring sunlight and the brightly colored robes whipped in the wind.

Slowly, in ones and twos, the guests stepped up to the railing. She responded to them automatically, without taking her eyes off the game. Yes, it was a great game. Yes, she was very happy. No, it had been very easy to plan, Harry had got the box, she hadn't done much at all. After enough polite chitchat, they drifted away again and left her to watch the game in peace.

The box was so well placed, right at the top of the stands, that the players were nearly at eye level. She saw the Chasers' expressions of determination and concentration as they flew in formation, passing the Quaffle so quickly it nearly became a blur, and the triumph in the eyes of the Keeper when he stopped a shot successfully and passed it to his own team.

She had been standing for so long that her leg was beginning to ache, and she shifted uncomfortably.

Another red-haired brother stepped up to the railing beside her as Wood dove headlong toward the leftmost hoop, hanging from his broom by one knee to stop a goal. Ginny gasped and the person beside her whistled.

"I taught him everything he knows!" proclaimed Charlie loudly, and Ginny laughed along with the rest of the group.

"Did you now?" she asked teasingly, nudging him gently with her elbow.

"'Course I did! Would I lie to you, my favorite sister?"

"Yes," Ginny replied, giggling.

They both watched as one of the Arrows' Chasers took the Quaffle and rose into the air with it, flying toward the goal.

"Porskoff ploy," said Ginny shortly, watching another Chaser get into position below to receive the Quaffle from her teammate.

"Obvious," agreed Charlie, and sure enough, the Quaffle dropped through the air into the Chaser's outstretched arms. A split-second later, the sharp impact of a Bludger knocked it away again, and this time there was a player in orange there to receive it.

"Sloppy," scoffed Ginny.

"Appleby are good enough," said Charlie, "but they play by the book."

Ginny nodded. "They'd never be in the championship without Wood," she said.

Charlie swung his arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly.

"You miss it, don't you?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said softly, biting her lip and looking down at her hands.

He leaned closer and spoke quietly into her ear, so that no one else could hear. "You could still be playing, if you wanted to." Her heart leaped into her throat as he clarified unnecessarily, "Out there," and nodded to the pitch.

By the time she'd blinked away the tears and composed herself enough to look back to the game, Harry had caught the Snitch and it was all over.

She drew a shaky breath and pasted a false smile on her face to talk to her guests. She began making her way around the room, greeting people and thanking them for coming. She'd already talked to many of them during the course of the game, but could not quite remember who they were, or what they'd talked about.

Lavender Brown had just handed her a glass of punch when the door burst open and Harry entered. His hair was still damp from the shower, and his face glowed with the excitement of victory. He walked from the door straight to Ginny's side and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Hey, Gin," he said in a low voice, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. "Thanks for letting me crash your party."

She laughed weakly, thinking but not saying, _It wouldn't be a party without you_.

-----

Pain lanced through Ginny's calf, rousing her from a deep, peaceful sleep. She curled up, bringing her knees to her chest and clutching her leg in her hands. Moaning in pain, she fought to control her breathing. After several minutes, she managed to reach out to her bedside table and grasp her wand. She muttered a quick numbing charm and felt it take effect. Leaning back on the pillows, exhausted, she heard a noise from the living room.

"Helloooo? Ginny?" a female voice called.

Grasping her wand, Ginny pushed herself out of bed and staggered slightly, unable to feel the floor beneath her numbed right leg.

"Bloody numbing charms," she muttered to herself, hobbling slowly toward the door. "Can't feel a blasted thing, can't even walk. Couldn't sit down for a little while, oh nooo, have to stand up for hours at a time when I know I'll be sore the next day like a halfwit…"

She opened the bedroom door and came face-to-face with Hermione.

"Oh, hello," Ginny said, leaning heavily on the wall for support and hoping she looked casual rather than debilitated by pain.

"Good morning," Hermione said brightly. "We've brought you breakfast."

"Oh, you didn't have to – I already –" Ginny began, flustered. "We?"

"I know we didn't have to. We _wanted_ to," Hermione replied, beaming. "As a thank you for the party."

"We?" Ginny asked again, looking down at her ratty red and gold pyjama pants and t-shirt that said "Chasers do it in threes."

"Oh, just us," Hermione said briefly, waving her hand in dismissal.

Swallowing her misgivings, Ginny limped after her into the living room, where Harry and Ron already sat, along with a pot of coffee and a basket of what was unmistakably her mother's scones.

"Oooh, Mum's scones!" Ginny cried, forgetting her self-consciousness and flinging herself across the room towards them.

Laughing, the others dug in as well. There was a companionable silence in the room as they ate, broken by the clink of cup and saucer.

Hermione finished first and wiped her mouth primly. "The party was wonderful, Ginny. You really did a very good job."

"Thank you," Ginny replied. "It wasn't really that much work, though."

"I admit that I don't particularly follow Quidditch, but—" Hermione broke off as Ron let out a loud cough that sounded suspiciously like laughter. She looked for a moment as though she was going to say something else to him, but instead she took a deep breath and went on, looking away from his freckled face. "But you seemed to be enjoying the game."

"It was a great match-up," Ginny explained. "Appleby have the top defense in the league, and the Cannons have some great offensive moves – they have this one maneuver they do where –"

But Hermione, seemingly uninterested in the Chudley Chasers' tactical prowess, was already halfway to the kitchen, her hands full of dirty dishes.

"You miss it, don't you?" asked Ron, echoing Charlie's question from the night before.

"Doesn't everyone?" asked Ginny, confused. "Don't you?"

"Not me." Harry grinned at her and she blew a raspberry at him in response.

"I suppose," Ron said with a shrug. "I don't miss the practices much. Or the crowds. Or getting hit in the face with Quaffles all the time."

"So you don't miss it at all, then."

"That's not true! I miss the parties." Suddenly serious, he turned to Ginny. "You could still play, you know."

"I haven't flown in ages," she said flatly, knowing that she wasn't really responding to Ron's assertion.

"Well, it's like riding a bike, isn't it?" asked Harry. The other two looked at him blankly. "Once you learn how, you never forget," he clarified.

"I didn't forget," Ginny said evenly, meeting his green eyes.

"Then you still know how," he returned, and Ginny was the first one to look away.


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny limped carefully and painfully through the Muggle crowds, down the moving staircase and into the station below the streets. With her secondhand Muggle coat over flowing robes, she knew she looked a bit like an old lady to the people around her, but she couldn't really bring herself to be bothered today.

A train pulled into the station with a rush of wind that made her hair fly around her face, and she allowed herself a small smile at the memory of how pleased her father had been to find out that she traveled on the tube every day. The doors slid open in front of her and she hobbled on, looking around for an empty seat but seeing none. A man about her own age with shocking green hair looked her up and down blatantly as he stood and offered his seat, and she accepted gratefully.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as the train sped through the darkened tunnels beneath the city. He leaned gracefully against the doors, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. His black sweatshirt was festooned with patches and glittering with safety pins. _THE MISFITS_ read his shoulder. _Dropkick Murphys_, said his elbow. _The Weird Sisters_ said his pocket. Ginny's eyes widened in surprise and she forgot to pretend she wasn't looking. The train slowed to a stop and he turned slightly toward the door, exposing a patch on his lower back that said _Salazar and the Serpents_ in large black letters. As though he felt her looking, he glanced to the side and met her eyes briefly, grinning knowingly at her.

The doors slid open and he stepped out, and Ginny realized belatedly that this was her stop. She squeezed through the doors and joined the crowds on the escalator. Several steps ahead of her, she could see a head of spiky green hair, sticking out like a sore thumb among the drab browns and grays of the early-morning commuters.

When she reached the top of the escalator and stepped out onto the city streets, he was waiting for her. He fell into step beside her, his tall frame hunched over and his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatshirt, and they walked along together without talking for a block or so.

Finally, Ginny spoke. "Tailing me?"

The young man next to her let out a high, girlish giggle.

"Not a very good use of Ministry funds, there," Ginny went on.

He scoffed. "It's practice."

"Yeah?" she teased. "In case you ever have to follow me for real?"

"Absolutely."

They stopped for a moment, and Ginny's companion ducked into a McDonald's bathroom and emerged about a foot shorter, with breasts and a round, smiling face.

"Much better," Ginny pronounced, and Tonks grinned back at her. "I like the green hair, though."

"Yeah," agreed Tonks, tugging on a lock of it near her ear. "Me too."

"So how's the leg?" she asked abruptly, as they neared the run-down department store that housed St. Mungo's Hospital.

"I'm about to find out," said Ginny lightly, not wanting to discuss it, even with such a close friend. Then, because she felt bad, "Meet me at Fortescue's later?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Tonks replied, and they stepped together through the plate-glass window into the noisy waiting area at St. Mungo's. With a wave, Tonks turned and walked jauntily down the long hallway that led to a Floo portal to the Ministry. Ginny headed back toward the lifts, where she pressed the button for the fourth floor.

The Healer who oversaw Ginny's case was a kind, grandfatherly man, and he ushered her into his office as soon as she stepped off the lift.

"Good morning, Miss Weasley," he said, as she seated herself on the cot in his examining room. "And how are we today?"

"I'm just fine, Healer Jacobs."

He poured a blue potion onto his hands and massaged it into her calf, leaving her with a familiar cooling sensation. Ginny did not understand what this or any of the other treatments he went through every time actually did, but she went anyway, and submitted to the treatment, mostly to make her mother happy.

"And how is the leg?" he asked, for all the world as though he were asking about the weather. "Scar giving you any trouble?"

"No, sir."

He continued to go through his regular routine, examining her with complex silver instruments which buzzed and whirred and always gave the same results, and smearing her with several more tingling creams and ointments.

"Any new developments at all?" he asked.

"No, none."

"Mmmm, I see. Not feeling any pain, are we?"

"Ah, well, some," Ginny admitted. "Some, yeah."

Healer Jacobs picked up his wand and muttered something under his breath as he waved it over her leg, which began to glow with patches of vivid red and orange light.

"Oh, dear," he said. "Oh dear, this is quite worse than I had thought." He looked up at Ginny over his spectacles, squinting a little. "This must be quite painful, my dear."

Ginny squirmed uncomfortably. "It's okay. I manage."

"With what?" he asked sharply. When she didn't answer, he asked again, "What are you using? Charms, potions?"

"Just, ah, a numbing charm," Ginny mumbled.

"What? Speak up, my dear."

"A numbing charm, Healer."

"Tsk, tsk, my dear," he said. "You should have come to me much sooner. I'm going to have to ask you to remove it."

Reluctantly, Ginny dug around in her bag, pulled out her wand, and tapped the scar on her leg softly with her wand, saying clearly, "_Finite incantatem_."

Immediately, her leg pulsed and throbbed with pain. Healer Jacobs beamed as the lights above her leg turned from orange and red to dark maroon and fuchsia, and said happily, "There now, that isn't so bad, is it?"

Ginny thought she might pass out from the pain, but she gritted her teeth and nodded at the healer.

He murmured a few more words under his breath, and the air above her leg sparkled as though full of golden glitter. "Hrm, I think this looks remarkably like another case I saw once upon a time, many years ago," he said, more to himself than to Ginny. "In that case, there was a severe allergy, but that shouldn't be a problem here, so the more traditional remedies should -- my dear, you have never had any reaction to the use of leeches, have you?"

Ginny gulped. "No, but I've never actually--"

"Excellent," he said, already reaching for a large jar of murky water on a shelf above his desk. "You'll find them to be quite painless, really."

Ginny's leg gave another throb and she bit her lip, holding back the hysterical laughter that was threatening to spill forth.

Healer Jacobs waved his wand and carefully levitated six smallish black blobs out of the jar and onto Ginny's leg. Immediately, she felt sharp stabs of pain as they latched onto her leg and broke the skin. Each of the blobs began to throb and swell as her blood filled them.

The healer tapped each leech with his wand and muttered several words, turning them from black to a deep, grayish brown.

"There now," he said with satisfaction. "All we need to do is wait."

Ginny nodded mutely, her fingernails digging into her palms from dual pain that filled her leg and took over her brain: the dull ache that had been ever-present since she had awoken in the hospital wing over two years before, and the sharp dragging pain of the leeches.

As she watched, the grayish leeches on her legs began to change color: first brown, then rust-colored, and finally to a vivid, brilliant red.

"There now," the Healer pronounced. "All clean, I dare say."

"Clean?" asked Ginny, with a slight whimper.

"Your blood, dear girl. Didn't you see what a frightful mess it was before?"

"My blood?"

He began systematically returning the leeches to their jar of pond water, and as the painful connections were cut, Ginny could feel her mind clearing. Had that dark grayish-brown color been her own blood?

"Yes, indeed. I believe the curse left a residual effect there. You'll still feel some pain, but I daresay there will be less. Oh, one more thing--" He tapped the six bite marks on her leg with his wand, repeating an elementary healing charm, and the wounds closed up. "That should do it."

"Thank you," Ginny said politely, easing her hands out of their tight fists and flexing her fingers subtly. "I'll see you next week, then?"

"Well, I should like to check your progress soon, but I do not believe these weekly visits will be necessary after this. Shall we say next month?" He patted her leg in a distracted manner, and Ginny braced for the shock of pain that usually traveled up her spine at such contact, but it never came.

"Have a lovely day, now, dear," he said, already turning his back on her to replace the leeches on their shelf.

"Erm, you too," Ginny replied dazedly, getting to her feet slowly.

Healer Jacobs seemed absorbed by some paperwork on his desk, so she let herself out, and wandered slowly down the hall, still limping a little bit from habit, although she could feel the ground beneath her feet again.

---

She stepped out into the familiar environment of Diagon Alley, still wondering at the new sensations in her leg. The pain that had been debilitating before was now bearable, and without the numbing charms, she was again able to walk as she once had.

She walked past the bookstore where she worked, and waved happily to old Mr. Blott, who was rearranging the display in the window.

A few storefronts over sat Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor, and by the time she reached it, she did not feel exhausted or worn out, as she usually did. Instead, she was excited and energized as she hadn't been in what felt like forever. It was as though her energy was collecting momentum, growing over time.

She chose a table in the window and took a seat, waiting for Tonks to join her. As she sat, she watched the weekday shoppers go about their business, moving from store to store. Mr. Blott's display looked good, she thought. Madame Malkin had a particularly hideous set of chartreuse robes in her window, which seemed designed to make the wearer look as large as possible. An elderly witch stopped in front of the display and seemed to admire the outfit, before stepping decisively inside the store. Ginny smothered a laugh.

Past Madam Malkin's was Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Ginny found herself looking at the shining racing brooms in the window with interest. It had been more than a year since she had even walked into the store, but after Ron's birthday party and the championship game, she thought that maybe she might stop by and take a look. Of course, that's all it could be. She hadn't flown in ages, she reminded herself.

"Wotcher," said Tonks, as she pulled out a chair at the table.

"Oh! Tonks!" said Ginny, startled. "I didn't even see you coming."

"Yeah, daydreaming. I saw you." Tonks laughed, propping her cheek with one hand and affecting a dazed look. "So who's the lucky bloke, then?" She scanned the street in front of them, as though trying to figure out where Ginny had been looking. Then in a whisper, she asked, "Was it Mr. Blott?"

Ginny let out a peal of laughter as the wizard in question looked up from his work on the display and smiled genially at a small child looking in the window.

"Those bushy eyebrows do it for me every time," she said suggestively.

Tonks screwed up her face in concentration, and a moment later, her eyebrows looked like two large caterpillars, bright green to match her hair.

"Good morning, ladies." Florean Fortescue bowed slightly and held out two menus, but Ginny waved them away.

"We'd like a banana split, please," she announced. "With two spoons."

Tonks grinned at her and waggled her enormous eyebrows, and Florean bowed slightly. "An excellent choice. Just a moment."

"Celebrating something today?" Tonks asked after he shuffled off with the menus.

"I just feel good, is all."

Tonks let out a low whistle. "That Mr. Blott is a lucky man."

By the time that Ginny stopped laughing and managed to breathe normally again, their sundae had arrived. They dug in enthusiastically, abandoning conversation for more important matters.

After the ice cream was gone, Tonks dropped a handful of sickles on the table and pushed back her chair. "Sorry, Gin, but I have to run. I have a big meeting today."

Ginny tapped her eyebrows meaningfully, and watched the bushy green caterpillars retract into somewhat smaller versions.

After Tonks had gone, Ginny checked the clock on the wall of the ice cream parlor. With a groan, she realized that there were only a few minutes left until she had to be at the bookstore for her afternoon shift. There was no time to go to Quality Quidditch today.

She bade goodbye to Florean, and stepped out the door, resolutely reminding herself that she had no reason to visit Quality Quidditch today or any other day. There was no way she could play on her injured leg, and there was no reason to torment herself.


	3. Chapter 3

A week later, someone knocked on the front door of the flat, and Ginny stood to answer it. She didn't bother to put down her book, sure that it was just a Muggle selling something. Any witches or wizards would just Floo over.

She limped across the floor and opened the door a few inches, ready to tell the person she was not going to buy what they were selling.

Instead, there stood Harry Potter, with two racing brooms in his hands, which he held up to show her.

"Want to come and play?" he asked.

"What are you doing with those things in the corridor?" she hissed in response. "Don't you know I live with—"

The sound of footsteps down the hall interrupted her, and she opened the door wide and stood back.

"Get in here, then."

Grinning, he stepped inside, brushing past her on the way in.

She made a show of closing the door as she caught her breath.

When she turned around, he was leaning against the armchair she'd been sitting in, watching her. He was wearing jeans with holes in the knees and thighs, and a tee shirt in Cannons orange. He looked, she thought, absolutely gorgeous.

"So, are we going?" he asked, indicating the brooms next to him.

She sighed, looking down at the book that she still held in her hand. "What did you have in mind?"

"I just thought we could go flying," he said.

"Look, Harry, I—"

"Mad-Eye can fly," he interrupted her. "If he can, you can."

"Mad-Eye _Moody_ flies a broom?" she asked, giggling at the image that popped into her mind. "Really?"

"Yep, really. I've seen it." He smiled at her again and looked, for a moment, even more attractive.

Ginny looked down at her leg. She hadn't flown since before the final battle, true. Waking in the Hospital Wing, surrounded by the wounded and dying, Quidditch had seemed like the least important thing in the world. It had seemed impossible on her cursed leg, and as she was constantly reminded, she was lucky to be alive. The ability to fly seemed a small price to pay in return for her life. But the Quidditch match had awakened something in her, and now she thought that if Mad-Eye Moody could fly a broom with his peg-leg, she should at least give it a try.

When she looked back at Harry, he had the brooms in his hand again, and such an eager expression on his face that she had to laugh.

"Oh fine," she said, smiling. "Let's go, then. If you insist."

"I do," he said, stepping closer to hand her one of the brooms. "We'll have to Apparate to the clubhouse first."

"Okay," she agreed, picturing the violently orange room in the Chudley stadium in her mind and waiting for the popping sound that told her that Harry had gone first.

To her surprise, she felt him wrap one arm firmly around her waist.

"One… two…" he counted, and she could feel the rumbling in his chest as he spoke. "Three."

There was a moment of blackness, where nothing at all existed except for Harry's warm body next to hers and the brooms in their hands. And then suddenly they were inside the Chudley clubhouse, and he was letting go of her and stepping away.

"I have to get something from my locker," he said. "It's just down here."

She followed him down the hall to the locker room, which was also painted a violent orange, with huge black lettering across the wall near the ceiling which said _WE SHALL CONQUER _in huge letters. Underneath that, in smaller letters, was painted the team's newer motto, _Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best_.

While Ginny looked around the rest of the locker room, Harry crossed to a locker in the corner and opened it, taking out an old knapsack.

"All right then?" he asked, and she realized with a start that he was ready to go and she was just standing there gawking.

"Ah, sure," she replied, blushing.

They stepped back into the hall, and Harry led the way farther into the complex, away from the public spectator areas that Ginny had seen the few times she'd been to the stadium before. They passed an open door, and a moment later a voice called them back.

"Potter!"

A youngish and slightly portly wizard hurried out of the door and clapped Harry on the back. He wore robes emblazoned with a small Chudley logo, and was smiling broadly. Ginny recognized him as Daniel Dryser, the owner of the Cannons.

"Hello, Potter, hello. Back in training already? I thought I told you lot to take a holiday, now." He was beaming, though, as if he was very pleased to see his star player forgoing his vacation for extra training. He looked around and spotted Ginny, and without giving Harry a chance to respond, went on. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Potter?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair and motioned to her. "Ginny, this is Dan Dryser. Dan, this is Ginny Weasley, a friend from school."

Ginny stepped forward and shook his hand, which was large and surprisingly strong. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Dryser."

"Please, call me Dan. Weasley, eh? I went to school with a Weasley. Charlie."

"Charlie's my brother."

"Great Seeker he was, Charlie," Dan replied, almost dreamily. "Not as good as Potter here, of course, but if we didn't already have a Seeker…" He laughed heartily and clapped Harry on the shoulder again.

"You play any yourself?" he asked Ginny, peering at her.

"I—" she began, only to be interrupted by Harry.

"Chaser," confirmed Harry. "Gryffindor team at Hogwarts."

"We could use a Chaser," he said, looking her up and down as though she were an animal in a zoo. "Fellows is retiring."

"Ah, well, I—" Ginny tried to make excuses, but was cut off again.

"We'll see you at tryouts, then," he said, clapping her on her shoulder as he had done to Harry, "next month."

"Good to see you, Dan," Harry said. "We've got to get going."

"Right, right," he replied, looking vaguely disappointed. "See you around, eh, Potter?"

"See you," Harry said, before leading her down the hall again, through a small wooden door, and out into the bright midday sun.

"Ron will be thrilled that I met him," Ginny said, imagining her brother's reaction.

"He's a good bloke," Harry replied. "Will talk your ear off about the Cannons, though."

"I know some people like that," Ginny said, nudging him with her elbow.

Harry just laughed and slipped the backpack he still carried over his shoulders. "Are we going flying then, or what?"

He straddled his broom and kicked off easily, rising to hover a few feet above the ground. He turned to look at her, as if waiting for her.

She looked at the broom in her hand and swallowed. It was certainly a top-notch model, the same one that Harry himself rode during matches.

"I—" She started to say, _I can't_, but the look in Harry's eyes made her hesitate. She remembered what he'd said the day after the championship match.

"I still know how," she muttered to herself, and swung one leg over her broom.

Carefully, gently, she shifted her weight to her bad leg. A jolt of pain shot up to her hip, and she winced, but she kicked off resolutely with her good leg, and sailed into the air.

Her hair blew around her face as the broom buoyed her upward, and she laughed out loud at the wonderful, familiar feeling of weightlessness. Harry cheered, and she looked up to see him clapping delightedly.

"Now that's more like it!"

She smiled back at him and steered her broom around in a small circle. "I suppose I do know how," she admitted.

Harry jerked his head to indicate the forest beyond the stadium, and she nodded. They flew above an open park toward the trees side by side.

Ginny flexed her thighs experimentally, and was pleased to find that she could grip the broom with her legs alone without much pain.

When Harry flew under the cover of the trees, darting and weaving between the trunks, she let out a loud whoop and followed him.

She bent at the waist, bringing her shoulders almost in contact with her broom, and gripped the handle tightly with both hands. Ahead of her, she could see Harry, bent down in much the same position, with his black hair whipping in the wind. She gritted her teeth and felt the warm summer air rake across her scalp as she put on a burst of speed. Dodging tree trunks left and right, and ducking under low-hanging limbs, she burst into a clearing and veered up into the open air a moment before him. As he rose slowly into the sky, she cheered and flew a victory lap around the edge of the clearing.

Flushed and laughing, she pulled her broom up to a stop next to his, so that they were facing each other with their brooms hovering parallel.

"I told you so," he said, his green eyes crinkling at the edges.

He led her farther from the stadium to another small clearing, where they landed. Ginny set down carefully, wary of putting too much weight on her leg right away, and then seated herself on the soft, springy grass.

Harry sat down next to her, so close that their thighs were touching. He reached into his backpack and pulled out two bottles of Butterbeer, handing one to Ginny. Next, he removed two sandwiches, a bag of crisps, two shiny green apples, and a box of chocolate biscuits.

They ate in comfortable silence, and when they were done, he removed one final item from the bottom of his bag: a Quaffle. He set the ball down in front of her without a word, then cleared away the things from lunch.

Ginny picked up the Quaffle and cradled it in her arms, remembering the feel of catching and throwing it during matches, the excitement of goal-scoring, and the sound of the crowds cheering her name.

"Want to play some catch?" Harry asked. When she looked up at him, his outline was blurred. She looked away again and wiped her eyes before nodding.

They rose into the air again and flew more sedately back toward the stadium, which rose large on the horizon. Harry tossed the Quaffle to her gently, and Ginny caught it easily, holding her broomstick with her thighs.

She tried a little weave and found that it worked, then returned the Quaffle back to Harry.

They continued passing the Quaffle back and forth until they reached the stadium and Ginny found that she had not, indeed, forgotten how to do this.

Instead of landing on the broad park outside the stadium where they'd lifted off, Harry flew up and over the side of the stadium. Ginny followed after him, flying low over the spectator seats and onto the pitch itself.

Harry tossed her the Quaffle and took up a position in front of the goal hoops. Ginny feinted left, flew to the right, and then dodged left again before sinking the ball through the center hoop.

As she watched the round red ball sail through the goal, Ginny's heart expanded with happiness and pride. She felt for a moment as though she would explode with the rush of emotions she felt. The sight brought back memories of all the goals she'd scored at Hogwarts, when her team had been depending on her and the crowd had been chanting her name. She remembered the way her brothers had been so proud to discover her aptitude for the game, and the games they'd played in the clearing behind their parents' home, games played only for family pride but as fiercely fought as any title match.

She sank down to the ground and winced as she landed, stumbling slightly. Harry landed a moment after her and frowned questioningly.

"You all right there?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm—this is amazing," Ginny answered, blinking back tears from her stinging eyes. "I never thought—this is amazing."

He smiled crookedly, and she felt her heart turn over inside her chest.

She limped the distance to him, and handed him her broom. He accepted it and handed her the Quaffle that he had retrieved from the ground.

"Here," he said, "you can keep this."

She clutched it to her chest, smiling. "Thank you for doing this, Harry. You really didn't have to."

"I wanted to," he said softly.

"No, really," she said, squeezing his hand softly in farewell. "I don't know which one of my brothers asked you to take me flying, but it was really sweet of you to agree. Thank you."

The last thing she saw before Disapparating was Harry's face falling into disappointment and distress.


	4. Chapter 4

Ginny was perched on her stool behind the counter at Flourish & Blott's a few days later, flipping through a well-worn copy of _The Mists of Avalon_. The weekday afternoons were always dreadfully slow, and since she was the only person in the shop at those times, usually boring as well.

The bell attached to the door jangled and Ginny glanced up from her book. Walking through into the shop was Katie Bell, carrying a clipboard and wearing simple robes emblazoned with the words _Quality Quidditch Supplies_.

"Hi, Katie."

"Oh, hi, Ginny. I didn't know you worked here," Katie replied. "Is Mr. Blott around?"

"No, sorry, he's not in today. He'll be back in tomorrow around noon." Ginny resisted the urge to tell her that the old man was getting his weekly manicure and pedicure, a source of much amusement among the shop's staff.

"Well, maybe you can help me," Katie said doubtfully.

"Sure," Ginny agreed, setting aside her book. "What do you need?"

"I work at Quality Quidditch," she said, pointing unnecessarily to the logo on her robes. "And I thought that people might like it if we carried a few books on the game. Not to compete with Flourish & Blott's, of course, just a small selection."

"That sounds like a great idea! What did you have in mind?"

"Well, actually, I was hoping I could get some suggestions from Mr. Blott," Katie admitted. "What are the bestsellers, that kind of thing."

Ginny laughed. "He'd probably just send you to me. He doesn't even listen to the World Cup on the wireless."

Katie looked a bit relieved at this news. She tucked her blonde hair behind her ears with a quick two-handed gesture, and leaned forward intently. "So what do you think?"

"Well, you already sell _Quidditch Monthly_, right?"

Katie nodded.

"Right, well they publish special editions from time to time – profiles of champion teams, that sort of thing. We don't carry them here, and people have to special order them if they want them. You might try those."

Katie nodded again and made a note on her clipboard.

"And then there are a few classics that you might want to try. I can sell you some at a volume discount, and then Mr. Blott will have no reason to complain."

"Perfect," said Katie.

"Okay, you'll want _Quidditch Through the Ages_ -- that's a classic for sure, and then… oh, probably _The Beaters' Bible, Goal-Keeping and Avoiding Injury, Strategy in the Sport of Warlocks_, and _Seeking for Complete Morons_. That should cover it."

"Thanks, Ginny, this is brilliant," Katie said, scribbling furiously on her pad. When she looked back up, it was with a calculating look on her pretty face. "Say, do you still play?"

"Oh—" Ginny started to say _no_, but then she remembered how it had felt to sink the Quaffle through the goal the other day, and reconsidered. "Ah, maybe. Why do you ask?"

"I get together with a few friends on Sundays for a kind of pick-up league," she said. "We could use a good Chaser."

"Oh, I don't know if I'm really…" Ginny began, then stopped. Why would she refuse? She wanted to play, and if it was just a few friends, like Katie said, it wouldn't matter that she wasn't much good. "You know what? I'd love to."

"Brilliant," Katie grinned. "Just meet us at Quality Quidditch on Sunday at noon."

"Cool," Ginny agreed, smiling, as Katie turned to go.

She opened the door and stepped through it, then stopped and stuck her head back inside. "And if anyone else asks, just tell them you're already on my team."

-----

Ginny had wondered about Katie's comment at first, but by that night she wasn't wondering any longer.

She was in her pajamas, finishing the washing-up from dinner that night, when an owl tapped on her kitchen window.

The mail usually arrived first thing in the morning, so when she received a note this late at night, Ginny's first thought was that something terrible had happened to someone close to her. She ran to the window and opened it as quickly as she could, letting the big white owl inside.

"Hedwig? Oh no, what's happened, is everyone all right?" Ginny did not expect much of an answer from the bird, but she spoke out loud to her anyway. Hedwig hooted disdainfully and ruffled her feathers a little, but Ginny was too preoccupied to notice.

She untied the note from the owl's leg with trembling hands and unrolled it on the counter.

_Ginny,_

_I'm helping Wood put together a team for pick-up Quidditch this Sunday, and we need Chasers. No pressure, just a few friends out to have a good time. You in?_

_Harry_

Ginny was so relieved that no one close to her was dead or even grievously injured that she burst out laughing. Only when she realized that Hedwig was looking at her as though she needed serious mental help did she stop. Grabbing a pencil stub, she flipped Harry's note over and wrote him back.

_Harry,_

_Thanks for the invitation, but_

Just as she was about to write out a quick explanation of her meeting with Katie and the fact that she'd already been enlisted for a team, she had a burst of inspiration and decided otherwise.

_but I'm afraid there's no way I can play on your Quidditch team this Sunday. _

_See you soon,_

_Ginny_

She laughed again and tied the note back onto Hedwig's leg before offering her an owl treat and sending her on her way.

Picking up her wand from where she'd dropped it in her run to the window, she cast a few more spells to clean up around the kitchen before turning out the light and retiring to her bedroom, smiling all the while.

Ginny had been hesitant about agreeing to Katie's offer at first. It had been years since she'd played Quidditch last, and in between, she'd suffered a debilitating injury. She'd been worried about who would be there, and whether she'd make a fool out of herself, and whether she'd disappoint Katie, who she'd always thought of as an older, cooler kid.

Now, with the chance to put one over on Harry, all that was forgotten. She couldn't wait to see his face when he realized she'd already been recruited for another team. All she had to worry about now was winning.

On impulse, she grabbed the Quaffle Harry gave her from the floor where she'd dropped it and got into bed with it.

Lying on her back, she practiced tossing it into the air and catching it again, first with her eyes open and then, as she gained confidence, with her eyes closed. When she first made the Gryffindor team as a Chaser, she used to do this. She even slept with the Quaffle in her arms the night before important matches, in the hopes that it would teach her not to drop it.

She smiled at the memory of her silly younger self, and set the Quaffle lovingly beside the bed before drifting off to sleep.

-----

That Sunday, Ginny awoke early with the Quaffle clutched in her arms. She looked at it in surprise for a moment, but when it failed to explain itself, she just laughed. She gave it a few practice tosses and then set it aside.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood gingerly, holding onto the nightstand for support. As she leaned her full weight on her leg, the slight ache intensified to a sharp pain, and she winced. Still, she resisted the urge to grab her wand and perform the numbing charm. This pain was nothing compared to what it had been before Healer Jacobs and his leeches, and besides, she wouldn't be able to fly with a numbed leg.

She limped off to the shower, knowing that she would need another one right after the game but wanting to look good anyway. There would be lots of people there, she told herself, that she hadn't seen in a long time.

After she had dressed carefully and spent an inordinate amount of time on her hair, Ginny grabbed the broom she'd borrowed from Ron and prepared to Apparate to Diagon Alley.

She arrived at the Apparition point near the Leaky Cauldron and walked down the cobblestone street toward Quality Quidditch, still limping a little. Katie was already standing outside the store, talking to two tall wizards.

"Ginny!" she called out, waving happily. Ginny took a few more limping steps and watched a frown cross Katie's face. She said something to the two wizards and walked up the street to meet Ginny out of earshot from them.

"Hey there, how are you doing?" she asked cheerfully, but with a note of concern on her voice.

"I'm fine, Katie, how are you?"

"Fine, fine." Katie brushed off the question with a wave of her hand. "Listen, I'd forgotten that you were injured. Can you still play?"

Ginny bit her lip and swallowed heavily. Of course Katie wouldn't want an invalid playing for her. "Once I'm in the air, I should be fine," she said honestly. "But taking off and landing are a bit trickier. And I haven't played in a long time. If you want to replace me—"

"No, no, of course not," Katie said, sounding relieved. "We'll just have to keep you in the air—" She looked at Ginny out of the corner of her eye and winked. "No falling off allowed."

Ginny smiled back and said, "Deal."

Katie led her over to where the two wizards still stood.

"Lads, this is Ginny Weasley. She'll be playing Chaser. Ginny, I think you know Roger Davies, our other Chaser." She indicated Roger, who was every bit as good-looking as Ginny remembered him being, and seemed to be admiring his own reflection in the shop window every few seconds. "And this is Klaus," Katie said, indicating the other wizard. "He's our Keeper." Klaus smiled and nodded at Ginny, but said nothing. A few moments later, they were joined by two big burly wizards named Bole and Renwick, and a tiny little witch introduced as Felina Flitwick. "Professor Flitwick's her uncle," Katie explained. Ginny noticed that Felina didn't carry her own broom, and thought that she might even be too small to. Instead, Renwick held two in his big hands.

Katie ducked inside the store and came out with a battered trunk embossed with her name and the Gryffindor crest, which she handed to Klaus. The group moved back in the direction of the Apparition point, and Katie handed Ginny a map, with a cunning little sketch above it of grass and trees.

"This is where we're going," Katie said. Ginny glanced it over and committed the location to memory, preparing herself to Apparate there, then handed it back to Katie, who passed it to Roger.

"All right, you lot," said Katie, already sounding like the team captain. "Whenever you're ready."

Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath before channeling her magic and Apparating to the park. She stumbled a little on arriving, and straightened up quickly, trying to ignore the sharp pain in her leg and the curious looks from her new teammates.

She followed Katie over to a couple of low picnic tables, where she sat down gratefully and massaged her calf with both hands. She felt someone sit down next to her and she looked up to see the large Beater, Bole.

"Weasley, huh?" he asked.

"Bole, huh?" she asked, teasingly.

"'Djyou go to Hogwarts, then?" he asked.

"Yep," she said. "Left last year."

"There was a Weasley in my year," he said. "Percy."

"Wait, did you play Quidditch when you were there?" she asked, choosing not to comment on Percy. "Only your name sounds familiar."

"Yeah," he said shortly. "For Slytherin." He seemed not to want to comment on that either.

"What are you doing now?" she asked politely.

"I, ah—" he cleared his throat and looked a little embarrassed. "I play for the Magpies, actually."

"Really?" Ginny sat up and looked around at her teammates again. "Are the rest of this lot pros, too?" She was beginning to feel nervous. After all, Katie had said that this group was just a few friends.

"Well, I'm just a reserve," Bole admitted. "And Klaus there, he plays over in Belgium… or Luxembourg, or some such place." He paused, surveying the rest of the group. "But no one else is, now."

"I haven't played in a long time," Ginny admitted, rolling the cuff of her jumper between her fingers.

"Well, you must be good, or Katie wouldn't have asked you," Bole said, conspiratorially. "She plays to win, she does."

Ginny was filled with the conflicting emotions of pride and doubt at this. She had been good, at Hogwarts, true. But it had been a long time since then. A very long time, with no flying in between, not to mention a major injury.

"Who are we playing today, then?" she asked, although she already knew the answer.

Bole looked surprised, and turned to Katie, who was talking with Klaus, their two blond heads close together. "Hey Bell!" he called across the table. "Who's buying the drinks tonight?"

"Wood!" she answered, laughing.

"Good, cause I'm already thirsty," Renwick said, making a show of cracking his knuckles, and everyone laughed.

Ginny joined in the laughter, pleased that they were going to be playing Harry's team, but worried about going up against Wood. She nervously remembered the spectacular saves she'd seen him make at the League Championship match.

"That reminds me," Katie said, walking around the table to where Ginny was sitting. "Davies, c'mere a second."

He leaned in, and Katie crouched down, speaking just to the two other Chasers. "Wood is good," she said. "Really, really good. He'll be tough to score on today. But I played with him at school, I know some things that'll help."

Ginny leaned in, listening intently. This was exactly the sort of thing she needed. Katie went on. "Pass a lot," she said. "If he doesn't know who's about to shoot, he'll have a harder time defending. Also a lot of vertical passing. It's confusing." Beside her, Ginny saw Roger nodding.

"And talk trash to him," Katie said. "As dirty as possible. Throws him off his game." Ginny blinked, startled. Professor McGonagall had always cracked down on that sort of thing in school. Katie noticed and grinned. "You especially, Ginny," she said, winking. "You can distract him."

"Will do," Ginny said, nodding. The family games they played in a forest clearing near the Burrow always included plenty of trash talk, so she thought she could handle it now.

"Oho! Look who's here!" Klaus called to the rest of the team, in a voice that was so loud, it must have been clearly calculated to carry over to the group of people who were just walking out from under cover of the nearby trees.

"Oi, Wood!" Katie called, her strategy discussion clearly abandoned for the moment. "I hope you brought your wallet!"

"Just give up now, Bell, and save us all the trouble!" Ginny was pretty sure that was Oliver's voice, but the other team was still so far away that she couldn't tell who was speaking.

"Oh, if this is too much trouble for you boys," Katie said, her voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm, "we can just go straight to the pub."

"It does get tough, beating you over and over again." That was someone else, a witch this time.

"Yeah, it's almost embarrassing, to tell the truth." Ginny recognized that voice immediately: definitely Harry.

"We feel bad for you lot." Oliver again.

"It is awfully hard for us," Katie agreed. "Being forced to play such inferior teams."

Katie and Oliver continued to go back and forth as the rest of the other team set down their things and prepared for the game. Beside her, Ginny saw Bole pick up his Beaters' bat.

"They'd talk all day if we let them," he muttered.

Ginny laughed and started for the makeshift pitch, limping along with her broom over her shoulder. She had just reached the sideline when she heard her name called.

"Ginny!"

She turned around just in time to see Harry jog up to her, disbelief on his face.

"Oh, hi Harry," she said casually. "How's it going?"

"Erm, just fine," he replied, obviously thrown.

"Beautiful day for Quidditch, isn't it?"

"Erm, yeah."

"Well, good luck today," Ginny said, smiling brightly as she turned away and walked toward the middle of the pitch.

A couple of players were already in the air, so she lifted off carefully and joined them, relieved that she wouldn't have to race to take off and be held back by her injured leg.

Hovering in the air while waiting for the game to start, Ginny watched Harry on the ground. He rustled in his backpack for a moment, then stood and examined his broom for a little while, then opened the trunk and looked at the Snitch halfheartedly. He looked, she thought, thoroughly distracted.

Suddenly, she remembered with perfect clarity the way his arm had felt around her waist when they Apparated to the Chudley clubhouse. It had felt comfortable, and warm, and their bodies had fit together just _right_, in a way that made her ache for more. Why was she trying to throw him off guard? What was she trying to accomplish, and why was she feeling so pleased with herself? Suddenly she was the one who was confused.

Harry released the Snitch from the case it was in, and Ginny blinked, looking around her in panic. The rest of the players were assembled in formation, and she hurried to get into place. Only the two Seekers remained on the ground. The game was starting; she could think about Harry later.

Harry tossed the Quaffle to Katie, who was hovering on her broom, and she counted to three in a loud voice before in-bounding it to Roger, and out of the corner of her eye Ginny saw the Bludgers fly into the air, followed quickly by the two Seekers.

Ginny raced down the field, angling for an open position and trying to keep an eye out for Bludgers at the same time. Roger passed her the Quaffle, and she sped towards the goal hoops where Wood hovered watchfully. Remembering Katie's words before the match, she passed to Katie, then caught another pass, then passed back to Roger, who passed back to Katie, who aimed for the right hoop. The Quaffle glanced off the edge of Wood's fingertips and soared through the hoop. Ginny cheered enthusiastically, then dove back into the game as Wood passed the Quaffle to his own team's Chasers.

The rest of the game was a blur, as she flew up and down the field, darting back and forth to dodge Bludgers, catch passes, throw to her teammates, defend against the other team, and shoot goals.

It was not until Harry and Felina flew the length of the field a meter above ground and all play stopped to watch them that Ginny realized she had been playing Quidditch. Really _playing_, and not thinking about it or worrying about it or being afraid of it. Not only that, but she had held her own and scored four times against the top professional keeper in the league.

As the players froze in place and watched, Harry tumbled to the ground and skidded along in the dirt and the grass and came up triumphant with the Snitch in his hand, leaving Felina behind him, still sitting on her broom.

Ginny and her teammates sank slowly to the ground, as the other team cheered loudly. She knew they were celebrating a victory over her own team, but Ginny could not help feeling elated. After years of believing that it just wasn't possible, she had actually climbed on a broom and flown in a real Quidditch match. She had played with Chasers she respected, and held her own. A professional Keeper had not been able to block her shots. A wonderful, light feeling of happiness filled her, and her heart felt as though it were flying, just the way her body felt when she sat on a broom and it lifted her up into the air. She felt as though she might burst.

She flew to the edge of the pitch, near where she had dropped the small bag with a few of her things, and jumped off her broom just as she used to do when celebrating after a match.

A moment after she had committed herself to leaping from the broom, she realized her mistake, but it was too late to take it back.

Both of Ginny's feet hit the ground with a thump at exactly the same moment. The impact of the grass traveled up her leg, jarring her knees and hips and sending a shockwave of pain that traveled all the way up her right leg into her spine.

Her weaker leg could not hold her weight, and the pain in her spine would not let her stand upright. She crumpled to the ground, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Hot tears welled in her eyes and drained across her cheeks, but she was only barely aware of them.

"Ginny!" a voice called, and it sounded as though it were coming from very far away. "Ginny, are you all right? What happened?"

She looked up slowly, and saw Harry's face next to hers, looking concerned.

"Is it your leg? What happened?"

All she could do was nod weakly, not sure what she meant at all but wanting to communicate something, anything.

Harry rested one hand on her back and gently slid his other arm beneath her knees, scooping her up and pressing her to his chest as he carried her carefully to one of the small picnic tables that lined the edge of the pitch.

By the time they reached the table, they were surrounded by the other players, all looking at Ginny and then at each other, talking in low voices that she couldn't hear. She buried her face in Harry's chest, wanting to escape from their scrutiny and from the stigma of being the weird one, the one who was weak and injured.

"What's wrong? What can I do?" Katie asked breathlessly from beside them, sounding as though she'd just run the length of the pitch, which she probably had.

"Get these people out of here," Harry said. "And I need a cushioning charm."

Katie turned away and Ginny heard Oliver calling to everyone a moment later. "Come on, you lot, let's head for the pub. Davies is buying the first round, isn't that right?" Oliver continued to call to the two teams until they had all picked up their things and moved away.

Harry leaned over and Ginny clutched his arm tightly, bracing for a jolting shock as he set her down on the flat top of the table, but instead he laid her on a soft, springy surface that cradled her aching back and supported her bruised leg.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked again.

Ginny opened her mouth to answer and instead gave a great gasping sob. There was blood in her mouth, sharp and metallic, and she didn't know where it had come from. She tried to calm herself, to breathe more easily so that she could speak, but the blood seemed to be upsetting her more.

Katie reappeared next to the table with a cotton bandage, which she pressed into Ginny's hand.

"You bit your lip," she said quietly, and that calmed Ginny more than anything else she could have said. "Put this in your mouth."

Still clutching at Harry's arm with one hand, Ginny raised the other to her mouth and pinched her bottom lip between her fingers, holding the bandage against it until the taste of blood faded.

She pulled the gauze from her mouth and found that she could breathe again. Her fingers ached with tension, and she eased them carefully from Harry's jumper, not looking up into his face until she was no longer touching him. Even though she wasn't pulling him down over the table any longer, he didn't step back or move away.

"I'm sorry," they both said at once. "What?"

"I ruined your game," Ginny said sadly.

"I was certain you'd be all right up there," Harry said, "and you listened to me, and you ended up hurting yourself."

"No," Ginny interrupted. "Well, yes, but no."

"Guys," Katie said softly, startling Ginny, who had forgotten she was there. "I, ah… I'll see you guys later, okay?"

"Bye, Katie," Ginny said.

"See you, Bell."

"I _was_ all right up there," Ginny insisted, once she was gone, looking up into Harry's eyes. "I can fly, and you showed me."

Harry blushed but didn't look away.

"I just—It felt so good to play again that I forgot—I forgot about—" She swallowed and then started over. "I jumped off my broom," she finally said.

"Are you—"

"I'll be fine," Ginny said, realizing that he'd asked this several times already. "I'm just… bruised."

Harry smiled and leaned rested his palms on the edge of the table near her hips. "So the flying was fine?"

Ginny threw out her arms in an expansive gesture and tilted her head back against the table, smiling happily into the bright blue sky. "It was wonderful. Even better than I remembered."

Harry laughed, a deep throaty laugh that sent sparks racing down her spine to a pool of electric energy between her legs.

She clasped her hands behind her head and looked at him again. "Did you see me score?"

"You were great," he said seriously. "Really great. I think you should take Dan up on his offer."

"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting up slowly.

"Try out," he said. "For the Cannons."


	5. Chapter 5

When Harry and Ginny stepped into the pub, they were greeted by a rousing cheer from their teammates. They made their way through the crowd to the bar, where Ginny sat quickly on a padded barstool to rest her still-aching leg.

They each ordered lagers and began to talk with Oliver Wood, who was standing nearby. When the old barkeeper shuffled back with their drinks, Harry reached for his wallet, but before he could get it, a large hand reached between them to lay a galleon on the bar.

"This one's on me, Tom," said Bole from behind them.

Ginny looked up in surprise.

Clapping Harry on the shoulder, he said gruffly, "Just my way of saying thanks."

Harry toasted silently with his pint glass, and Bole nodded solemnly before returning to his conversation with the other Beaters at the back of the pub. Ginny frowned questioningly at Harry, and he silently tapped the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead in explanation. She nodded and lifted her glass in a toast as well.

"Good game today," Wood said, breaking the silence. It took Ginny a moment to figure out that he was talking to her.

"Thanks," she said, trying to cover her blush by taking a sip of lager. "You weren't making my job any easier, you know."

Oliver scoffed. "You didn't need any help out there."

"She's thinking of trying out for the Cannons," Harry broke in. "What do you think?"

Ginny scowled at him. She wasn't thinking about it at all. At least, she hadn't been until Harry brought it up, and brought it up again and again. Until today, she hadn't even played Quidditch in over two years. There was just no way that she was good enough.

"Well, she's certainly good enough," Wood pronounced, after scrutinizing her for a few moments. "Could use some training up a bit, though. Practice."

Harry nodded, as though he were taking notes.

"You should ask Felina, though, mate," Oliver said. "She's the scout."

"I'll do that," Harry agreed. He drained his glass and set it down on the bar, signaling to Tom for another.

"Felina's a scout?" Ginny asked Oliver.

"Yep." Oliver nodded. "She's worked all over the place. Was at Puddlemere when I got signed, and after that with the Tornadoes."

Ginny whistled. "Was she there when they—"

"Yep, she was the one who discovered that fabulous Seeker they had. Found 'im in a semi-pro league in Outer Mongolia, if you'd believe it. Bloke won them three championships."

"In a row," pointed out a squeaky voice. Ginny looked toward the source of the sound and saw Felina standing next to Oliver, with Harry behind her.

"Let me get you a chair," Oliver offered.

"No need," Felina said with a smile. She pulled a wand out of her pocket that was thin, short, and looked perfectly in proportion with her small size. Waving it gently in a circle, she conjured what looked like a round, plush footstool. She turned around and sat on the center, then tapped the cushion once with her wand. The footstool seemed to grow like a giant mushroom, and Felina rose quickly to Ginny's eye level.

"Now," she said in a very businesslike way. "I hear you're thinking of becoming a professional."

"Erm," Ginny said.

"Yes, she is," Harry said quickly.

"Is she?" Felina asked, looking intently at Ginny's face. When Harry opened his mouth to speak again, she held up a tiny palm in his direction. "Why don't you get yourself another drink, Harry? We'd like to have some girl talk."

Harry looked a little taken aback, but he complied, grabbing Oliver by the elbow and pulling him away toward the other end of the bar.

Felina watched them go with an impatient look on her face, and did not start speaking to Ginny again until they were out of earshot. "Now," she said. "Is professional Quidditch something you want?"

"I don't know," admitted Ginny.

"What are you worried about?"

"After I was injured, I couldn't play," she explained. "I could barely get out of bed. And I just never started again. With the war and all… it just didn't seem that important. Today was the first game I'd played in two years."

Felina looked surprised.

"You haven't played in two years?"

"Well, not until today."

"And now you are considering playing professionally?" The little woman quirked her eyebrows.

"Well, not…" Ginny trailed off and took another sip of her beer, which was getting a little warm and flat. She tried to figure out how to take the question in her mind and put it into words. "I don't know if I can. I suppose I want to know if it's even a possibility before I start to consider it."

Felina nodded. "So…"

"Do you think I should consider it?" Ginny asked.

She seemed unwilling to offer an opinion, instead answering with a question of her own. "How do you feel about the game?"

"Feel?"

"Do you enjoy playing?"

"Well, of course!" Ginny said. "I love it. I miss it so much from school, and now that I can play again…" She paused. "Now that I know I can play again."

"If you could have any job, and money was no concern, what would you do?"

"I guess Quidditch would be my second choice. I was planning to be an Auror before I was hurt. But there's no chance of that now." She looked down at her leg and frowned sadly. The mangled muscle twinged as though it knew it was being talked about.

Felina nodded silently, looking thoughtful, and Ginny realized that the tiny woman must have had her own disappointments when it came to playing Quidditch.

"Tell me," Felina said, suddenly seeming to change the subject, "about when you began playing."

Ginny grinned. "The first time I played on a team was in my fourth year when I filled in for Harry. But the first time I played…"

"Yes?"

"I was so young, my mum would have killed them if she knew," Ginny said nostalgically. "My brothers, the twins, they decided they wanted to be Beaters. They were ten and I was seven. They made me…" she paused for dramatic effect, enjoying the spellbound look on Felina's face. "They made me be a moving target for them," she said, laughing.

Felina threw back her head and laughed so loudly that many of the other patrons in the bar turned to stare.

"The best part is," Ginny said, laughing too. "I loved it. That actually made me _want_ to be a Chaser."

Clutching her stomach and rocking back and forth, Felina laughed even harder than she had before. Katie stepped up behind her and placed both her hands on Felina's shoulders, steadying her.

"Careful," she said teasingly. "Don't fall."

Felina was obviously making an attempt to breathe normally and failing miserably.

"What's so funny, anyway?"

"Oh no," Ginny said firmly. "Oh no, I can't tell you, you know them."

"Target… practice," wheezed Felina.

"What?" Katie asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Fred and George," Ginny said, trying to sound reluctant. "They, ah…"

"They used you for _target practice_?" Katie asked, covering her mouth with one hand.

"Taught me to fly," she replied simply.

Katie began to giggle, still covering her mouth.

"I need a drink," Felina said, shaking her head and wiping tears from the corner of her eyes.

She tapped the edge of her stool with her wand and it shrank down to the floor again. "And Ginny?" she asked, looking up with her head tipped back. "The answer is yes. You certainly should consider it."

Ginny's stomach fluttered, and she bit her lip.

"I think I need a drink, too," she said, her voice shaking. She raised her hand to signal for the bartender.

-----

Two hours later, Ginny was leaning heavily on Harry as they sat side by side at the bar. He had spilled his beer and was attempting to wipe it up with his sleeve, and her cheeks hurt from laughing.

A hand touched Ginny's shoulder and she turned her head quickly, blinking a little as the room caught up more slowly than it should have.

Oliver stood behind them, and if she really squinted she could see that the bar was nearly empty behind him.

"I'm out of here," he said. "You two gonna be all right to get home?"

Ginny giggled.

"Oh yeah," Harry said, nodding his head vigorously. "We're gooood."

"If you say so, mate." Oliver looked doubtful, but he clapped Harry on the shoulder and left anyway.

"Everybody left," Ginny pointed out.

Harry giggled. "They did!"

"Maybe we should go too," she said, watching Tom wipe down tables.

"Should we?" Harry asked. "Oh."

"Oh," she repeated, giggling some more.

Somehow, they managed to stagger out the door and down the street to the Apparition point, leaning on each other in turns.

"C'mere," Harry said when they got there, holding out his arms.

"For what?" she asked suspiciously, in a too-loud voice

"We gotta Ap-- papper—Appermate," Harry said, and they both laughed.

"Maybe we should walk," Ginny said.

"Nono, 'ts fine," Harry insisted, wobbling a little on his feet.

"I don't know 'bout you, but I need all my body parts," Ginny said, patting herself down for extra emphasis.

"Oh-ho, me too," Harry said suggestively, opening his arms again and motioning her to him.

"Gimme that," she demanded, handing out her hand for his wand and wobbling a little herself.

He let her take it, but while she was distracted with the wand, stepped forward and enveloped her in a big hug.

His body was warm, and they fit together like puzzle pieces. The smell of alcohol rose off of him, but there was also another smell, a hint of tangy sweetness that made her lick her lips. She extended her tongue and swept it across her upper lip, but halfway along it was intercepted when Harry pressed his mouth to hers.

It was certainly the sloppiest kiss she had ever received. His lips were open and his mouth was wet, but her lips were only slightly parted, and at first she didn't really realize what he was doing except wetting the bottom part of her mouth with his saliva.

In surprise, she opened her mouth to tell him off, but instead he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. By now, it had become a kiss. Their tongues tangled, sliding gently across one another. The stubble that was only barely visible on his cheeks and chin scraped across her face and although it hurt, the sandpapery feeling of it sent shivers dancing across her skin, reminding her of her own contoured shape. Somehow, her fingers ended up twined in his hair, and one of his hands dipped below her waistline, holding her firmly against him. She clung to him desperately, feeling as though she were waking from a long sleep.

She realized now that this was what she had wanted for a long time. When he whispered in her ear after the championship match, when he pulled her close to apparate, when he took care of her injuries and understood her need for privacy… it had all been leading to this moment.

He broke the kiss and began trailing his lips down her throat, murmuring unintelligible words against her skin. When he reached the pulse point at the base of her throat, he kissed her there, soundly, and moved his way up to her ear.

"Ginny," he groaned, and the sound of his voice made her thighs tingle. "I want, I need, I mmmm…"

She tilted her head back, trying to give him access as best she could, thrilled with the thought that what he wanted was her.

"My wand."

"What?" she said, moving away even as his teeth latched onto her earlobe, causing him to bite down. The pain and the shock of his words combined with the force of a cold shower. He didn't want her at all. Her drunken mind stumbled over the idea and into the next logical one: he'd only kissed her to get his wand back, not for any other reason. Shocked and angry, she reacted without thinking.

Bracing herself with her good leg, she placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved forcefully. Drunk and caught off guard, he stumbled backwards and fell hard onto the cobblestone street.

As haughtily as she could manage, given her drunk and disheveled state, she threw his wand at him and marched off down the street in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day was Monday, and Ginny stumbled into the bookstore with an aching head and an unsettled stomach. She unlocked the door and stepped through it, wincing as it slammed shut, then sat down behind the till and rested her head in her hands.

She stayed in that position for as long as she could, until her elbows began to ache from being propped against the hard counter. Her stomach felt a little better that way, though. Now if she could just sit in this position for the rest of the day, she'd be fine.

The bell on the door jangled and she looked up, suppressing a moan.

Katie entered the shop with a spring in her step and a smirk on her face.

"How're you feeling today?" she asked, looking as though she already knew the answer to the question.

In response, Ginny leaned down and rested her forehead on the surface of the counter in front of her.

Katie laughed.

"I hate you," Ginny said, the counter muffling her voice.

"You played a great game yesterday," Katie said, blithely ignoring her comment.

"Meh." The thought of Quidditch, and all the swooping and darting and turning involved, made Ginny feel sick.

"No, really, it was great. I don't know what we did without you."

"We still lost."

"Yeah, but they had a great Seeker."

Ginny grunted.

"How long have you been together, anyway?"

"Together?"

"You and Harry."

"Me and… Harry?"

"How long have you been going out with Harry?" Katie asked, sounding as though she were talking to a very small child.

Ginny lifted her head up, trying to ignore the pain and nausea this caused. "I'm not."

Katie looked skeptical.

"Really," Ginny insisted. "I'm not seeing Harry. We're just…" She trailed off, remembering the kiss they'd shared the night before. "Friends," she finished weakly.

"That's not what it looked like to me," Katie said suggestively.

The bell attached to the door jangled as a customer entered the shop. Katie winked and mouthed the word "later" before ducking out the door.

The grandmotherly-looking witch browsed the shelves for a few minutes, while Ginny tried to look as though she was not hung over. Inside, however, her stomach was churning from the effects of the night before and her head was spinning from Katie's words.

Dating Harry? She tried to scoff at the very idea, but his kiss kept taking over her mind. The rest of the night at the bar was mostly obscured by an odd alcoholic haze, but the kiss stood out in her mind in crystal clear detail. She remembered the way the smell of him had overwhelmed her mind, and the way she had clung to him for support, as though all the bones in her body had dissolved into nothingness. Then she had gotten angry with him for some reason and pushed him away, but she couldn't remember exactly why.

Ginny raised one hand to her mouth, nibbling on her fingernail absent-mindedly. Had she and Harry really shared an incredibly, mind-numbingly wonderful kiss? That was certainly what she remembered, although she wasn't sure whether or not she should trust her drunken memory.

Now Katie thought they were dating. Ginny knew that idea was obviously wrong. She would know if she were dating someone, after all. But the very suggestion made her think differently about the time they'd spent together recently. He had taken her flying and brought along a picnic, after all. At the time, she'd assumed that one of her brothers had put him up to it. A cozy picnic for two did sound like an awfully romantic gesture, though. And then he had invited her to play Quidditch with his friends. That could mean anything. She remembered the way he had scooped her up in his arms when she was hurt, and the way he'd touched the small of her back as they entered The Leaky Cauldron, guiding her inside. Neither of those things seemed like something her brothers would put him up to.

Was she really so clueless that she hadn't noticed when he asked her out? The memory of being carried in his arms was coupled in her mind with the certain impression that she had enjoyed it, had snuggled up to him, had perhaps even grasped his hand and held tightly to it while her leg spasmed with pain. Then there was the fact that she had spent the entire night at the bar by his side, with the exception of the few minutes when Felina had chased him off. Or at least, all the parts of the night that she actually remembered.

She thought of the owl she'd sent him, and her silly attempt to trick him into being surprised to see her. In retrospect, it seemed like a very flirty thing to do. It was almost as though she was trying to play some boy-girl game with him, the kind of thing her friends had done with boys in their third and fourth years at school. Those games had seemed ridiculous even then, and she was so much older now -- shouldn't she be past all that?

Ginny sighed. Whatever it was she should be doing, the fact remained that she was obviously not past that. Katie's comment had opened her eyes like _Lumos_ lit up a dark room, and she felt giddy and nervous. She wanted him to owl her and she was afraid of it at the same time. Maybe she needed to stop by the apothecary's on the way home from work and buy a new hair potion or a different lip gloss. Madam Malkin's might have something that would catch Harry's eye.

She rolled her eyes at herself. This was getting ridiculous. She would just owl him tonight, when she got home from work. Unless he owled first. Hopefully he would.

-----

Ginny heated up some leftover curry and stood in the kitchen, her hip propped against the counter, eating it directly out of the delivery container.

She looked at her owl, asleep on his perch. Next to him was a pad of paper and a jar of ballpoint pens that had been a housewarming gift from her father. The pad was blank, and just out of her reach. She could walk over to it and write something, but what would she say? She could call him on the Floo, instead, but she'd still have to think of something to say.

"Hi Harry," she said out loud, as though practicing. "I'm sorry I knocked you on your arse the other night."

"It's just occurred to me," she tried again. "That you might have kissed me because you actually wanted to."

"Dear Bloke, please explain your actions as I have no idea what the bloody hell you're thinking."

"Memo to Harry Potter, from Ginny Weasley," she announced loudly to the empty kitchen, gesturing widely with her chopsticks. "Are you interested in dating me? Check yes or no."

She threw her curry into the bin in frustration. "This is absolutely ridiculous," she told the vacant flat. "I have to get out of here."

She picked up her purse from where the arm of the sofa where she'd dropped it when she came in. She swung open the door and nearly walked into Harry, who was standing on the other side of the door with his hand raised to knock.

"Harry!" she said, shocked. She wondered how much he had heard of her conversation with no one.

"Hey," he said. "I was going for coffee, and wondered if you'd like to come along. But if you're on your way out…"

"No no, coffee would be good," she replied quickly, feeling as though they were the stupidest words ever spoken. Why couldn't she think of something better to say, something wittier or more intelligent or sexier?

They walked through the hall and down the stairs side by side, Ginny fingering the hem of her t-shirt nervously. She wondered what kind of coffee they were going to have. Would it be expensive, romantic, Italian coffee that was too strong to taste good and served in tiny cups, or possibly something cheap served in styrofoam?

He took her to Starbucks. She didn't know what that meant. On the way there, he looked at her a couple of times. She tried to figure out what that meant, and why she blushed when he did it.

"All right, Gin?" he asked once they were seated at a small table in the corner.

"Yeah, of course," she responded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're pretty quiet. You're not… not mad?"

"No. Why would I be?" As soon as she said it, she realized why.

"Erm--" Harry looked as though he didn't really want to explain, and part of her was tempted to sit back and laugh while he tried to.

"No, not mad," she hurried to say, blushing, as her better half won out.

"Oh, good." He looked relieved, and she wondered if that meant that he wanted to kiss her again.

"I'm sorry I…" She trailed off, looking for the right way to word what she was trying to say. "I'm sorry I pushed you," she said finally.

"Oh," he said, laughing weakly. "Right, I forgot." A look of relief crossed his face, belying his words, but he still looked tense.

"But," she said slowly. "I'm not sorry about… about the rest." Hopefully, he knew what she meant. Specifically, she was not sorry that she kissed him.

After that, he seemed to relax. She could see the set of his shoulders soften as he let out a deep breath.

"What did Felina say to you?" he asked.

"Felina?" In all her confusion and crisis over Harry and the kiss and Katie's suggestion that they were dating, she had nearly allowed herself to forget about the game the day before. "Erm," she started, blushing a little at being forced to repeat the scout's startling praise. "She said I should go for it."

"I told you so!" Harry said triumphantly, slapping his hand down on the table and causing several other coffee-drinking patrons to look over at them.

He lowered his voice. "I told you so," he said again. "You really ought to try out. And you heard Dan, we have a spot coming open on our team for next season."

"I don't know, Harry. I'm going to need an awful lot of practice before I can try out."

"I'll help you practice," he said quickly.

"You will?"

"Yeah. It'd be fun."

"It would be brilliant, playing Quidditch for a living," she admitted.

"Trust me, it is."

"I still don't know, though."

"Come on, where's your Gryffindor courage?"

She glared at him.

"What? You should do it. Come on, why not?"

Ginny sat silently for a moment, tracing the rim of her paper cup with one finger. When she looked up, she found him watching her with a hungry look in his eyes.

She swallowed.

"You know what? I think I will," she said. "I'm going for it."

_And for you_, she added silently.


	7. Chapter 7

The waking charm flashed bright lights across the ceiling. As Ginny lay on her back squinting up at them, they got steadily brighter. Eventually Celestina Warbeck's voice filled the room as well, quivering on a syrupy high note, and Ginny had no choice but to climb quickly from her bed in order to make it stop.

Once standing, she wobbled slightly on her feet, looking longingly at the mussed bedcovers where she had been lying comfortably only a moment before. Shaking her head and muttering to herself, she trudged unsteadily in the direction of the shower.

The hot water ran in rivulets across her scalp and cascaded across her face, rinsing the sleepy stupor from her brain. She washed carefully, paying extra attention to all her body's curves and crevices and using the special shampoo that made her hair smell like apples. Stepping gingerly from the shower, she kept a tight grip on the railing Bill had installed to help keep her from falling.

She wrapped a large fluffy towel around her middle and sat gingerly on the edge of the tub. Lifting her wand from where it lay on the corner of the sink, she spoke the incantation for a hair-removal charm and ran the tip of the wand up and down her legs in a smooth motion. When she was done, she rubbed a soft, sweet-smelling lotion into her skin, then ran her fingertips across her legs gently, enjoying the feeling of the smooth, clean skin. It was not hard to imagine what Harry's hands would feel like in place of her own.

She leaned forward and bent her leg so that she could examine the scars that ran from her right ankle almost to her knee. The tangle of black, red, brown, and purple threads snaking across her skin looked just as bad as they always had, but she did not have the same reaction that she had in the past. Instead of making her feel ugly and deformed, this time the marks brought back the memory of the day she'd gotten them.

It was a hazy memory, obscured by a fog of panic and chaos. She had been standing on the lawn near the broom shed, her feet planted firmly in the green grass of late spring, her wand in her hand. A curtain of black fog, shot through with brilliant green lightning, obscured the sunny sky above her. Curses rang in her ears, echoing off the stone walls of the nearby castle. Ginny herself screamed until she was hoarse, casting every curse she could think of. It had been a day of pain and loss, but it had also been a day of courage and triumph.

Unlike with other guys she'd been interested in, her scar wasn't a curiosity for Harry. He had been there when she was hurt, and before. In the last few weeks, he'd helped her to change her own mind about the injury. Thanks in part to his help, she'd gone from thinking of herself as wounded and crippled to seeing the injury as a part of her past. Yes, it had affected her deeply and continued to do so every day. But it didn't kill her, and she should go on living. There was no reason to sit on the sidelines and watch others fly above her. Today, scar or no scar, limp or no limp, she was taking the first steps toward rejoining the game.

-----

Ginny Apparated to the park where they'd played Quidditch the weekend before, feeling confident and undeniably sexy. Her broom slung across her shoulder, she walked across the grass towards a picnic table at the end of the field, where a dark-haired young man sat watching her. Enjoying the feel of his eyes on her, she rolled her hips and swung her ponytail exaggeratedly. She was emphasizing the appearance of her limp, but she didn't care.

"Fancy meeting you here," she called to him once she was within earshot.

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asked jokingly, indicating the tree-lined park with a sweeping gesture.

"Maybe I'm not such a nice girl after all," she replied, waggling her eyebrows at him.

He just laughed in response, but his face colored a little bit. She dropped her bag at his feet with a satisfying thump and leaned a little on her broom. Looking him in the eye, she waited for him to speak.

He stared back for a moment, his green eyes unreadable behind his glasses. Finally he shook his head a tiny bit and seemed to snap out of his thoughts.

"Right," he said. "You ready to practice?"

She blinked at him in surprise. In her elaborate preparations, she had nearly forgotten that they were meeting for some reason other than romance or seduction. To cover her error, she gave a mock salute. "Absolutely."

"I thought we could start with some standard Chaser drills first, passing and shooting, and then if there was anything you wanted to work on we could do that at the end. Next week we could work with Bludgers, and when you're ready, we can combine them." Harry looked focused and serious, and Ginny realized that he'd put quite a lot of thought into this.

"Sounds good," she said, nodding. Very little of her own thought about this day had been related to Quidditch, and she felt chastened, although he had said nothing about that.

They mounted their brooms and rose into the air while Harry explained the first drill. "This is something I learned from one of my teammates, who played in Europe for a while." He waved his wand, and several glowing columns of blue light appeared on the field. "First we'll fly it as an obstacle course, then add in passing." Ginny nodded.

"Follow me," he said. Without looking to see if she complied, he dove headfirst toward the first column, which was moving lazily, tracing circles on the field below. As Harry approached the beam of light, it seemed to shy away from him, but he adjusted his course and flew directly through it. Ginny watched him bob and weave in order to fly through the next few bars of light until she understood what he was doing, then took a deep breath and flew after him.

The glowing columns danced before her, surprisingly hard to reach, and she felt new respect for Harry's flying abilities. She narrowed her focus and forced all thoughts of seduction out of her head, concentrating all her energy on hitting each column precisely, and felt herself improving with each successful attempt. They flew through the course three times in a row, until Harry slid to a stop near one goalpost and Ginny flew up to meet him.

"Good job," he said warmly. "You ready for more?"

Without waiting for her answer, he waved his wand, splitting the makeshift obstacle course into two parallel courses.

"_Accio _Quaffle," he said, and she watched the round ball come shooting toward them from the picnic table where their bags still sat. She flew to catch it, guiding her broom with her knees and reaching out her arms to pluck it out of the air. Over her shoulder, she looked back at Harry, who motioned her toward the nearest course before dipping his broom and flying into the other.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of Quaffles as they drilled relentlessly on passing, swerving, diving, and catching. Harry was a natural teacher, and had carefully thought out the plan for today, choosing tasks that got successively harder as the day went on and Ginny grew more confident. Some were routines that she remembered from her Hogwarts days, but most were entirely new to her, things that he must have learned from his professional teammates and his coach.

The sun was dipping low in the afternoon sky by the time that Harry dropped down to the pitch and motioned for her to land also. She touched down gingerly, remembering vividly the last time she'd dismounted from her broom. Gingerly, she placed her weight first on her stronger left leg before swinging her right leg off the broom and standing on both feet. The earth seemed to sway for a moment, and she almost fell before leaning heavily on her broom.

Harry rushed to her side. "Are you all right? How's your leg?"

Ginny blushed. "I'm fine. I just haven't been on the ground for a while," she explained, feeling the rolling sensation subside already.

"You're just out of practice, that's all," Harry said with a smile. "We obviously need to get you into the air some more."

"Obviously," Ginny said dryly, as she hobbled bowleggedly off the pitch toward the picnic table where her bag lay.

Sitting down heavily on the rough wooden bench, she reached into her bag and retrieved a plastic bottle of water, then swigged heartily. Harry sat down next to her a minute later, his leg touching hers from knee to hip. Ginny was suddenly reminded of her forgotten mission to get Harry to admit his feelings for her.

"You did a great job out there," he said, jerking his head toward the pitch.

"Yeah?" she replied, blushing despite herself.

"Yeah," he said softly, dropping his eyes to her lips.

For a long moment, she thought he was about to kiss her. Holding her breath in anticipation, she extended the tip of her tongue and used it to wet her bottom lip.

This seemed to snap Harry out of his trance, and he looked swiftly back up to her eyes, red splotches staining his cheeks.

"Yeah," he repeated. "A great job. Your shooting is just as good as it used to be, maybe better even."

She nodded, wondering how she could make him want to kiss her again.

"One thing that you need to work on is your right side," Harry explained. "When you're about to catch a pass on your right side, you twist around and try to protect your leg."

Ginny nodded again. "If a Bludger hits me there, it'll be really painful," she explained. "I don't really know how to avoid that." She didn't have to say out loud that she had almost dropped a couple of those passes today. It had been obvious. And if she was having trouble with simple, easy passes from him, she would be in real trouble when faced with professional Chasers in a game situation.

"Some kind of a charm to stop the pain, maybe?" Harry asked. "A numbing charm?"

"No good. I can barely walk with them, much less fly."

Harry frowned. "Maybe some kind of protection charm, then?"

"I don't know any, but that could work. I'll ask around."

Harry nodded, and they smiled at each other. It was only then that she noticed that he had turned his body slightly, resting his arm along the wooden tabletop behind her so that he almost had his arm around her. Almost, but not quite.

"You did really well on that first drill, too," Harry said, and she recognized that he was padding his criticism with compliments to make it easier to take. "It usually takes people a really long time to get good at that one."

"Thank you." She nodded gravely. "And you, Mr. Potter…" She trailed off, stroking her chin as though she were in deep contemplation. "You fly very well, but if you want to be a Chaser, you'll have to work on your passing."

Harry nodded solemly. "You think so? Actually, I have excellent aim."

Ginny fought to keep from laughing, remembering the few times she'd had to chase down passes that had gone wide.

"I was… testing you," he said. "Yes, that's it. Testing you."

"Ah." She nodded in comprehension. "So how did I do? Did I pass the test?"

"'Exceeds expectations', definitely," Harry said, using the old O.W.L. score. Their faces were so close now that she could easily lean in quickly and bring her lips to his. A shiver ran down her spine as she pictured doing it, pushing him up against the picnic table and snogging him senseless.

"Not 'outstanding'?" she asked.

"I have to leave some room for improvement, or I'll be out of a job," Harry said. The words were joking, but she caught a serious note in them. His fingers rubbed the cuff of his sleeve nervously, and she remembered suddenly that the last time they'd kissed, she had pushed him away.

"Oh, you've got the position, don't worry," she said, hoping that it would reassure him.

"It's a tough job, too—" he said softly, his eyes tracing downward to focus on her lips again. "Being forced to play Chaser…" He trailed off and she held her breath in anticipation, certain he was about to lean in and kiss her.

Instead, though, he seemed to stop in place and, after a moment, move backwards.

"So, ah…" he said, lifting his arm from the table behind her and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "When do you want to practice again? Thursday?"

She blinked in surprise. "Thursday… sounds good."

"Good. Thursday it is, then." He stood and picked up his broomstick, and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him back to her.

"Wait." She had spoken before she knew what she was doing, and stood before she could stop herself.

"Harry, I—"

He turned and looked back at her, and she could see each and every coal-black eyelash that framed his brilliant green eyes.

"I wanted to say thank you," she said, taking another step closer to him, and then another, until she could feel the heat of his body through her skin. "For helping me. There's no way I could do this alone."

"Yeah, well, you're not on the team yet," Harry muttered, his cheeks reddening. "Thank me when we're done."

Ginny took a deep breath and let it out again. She could not just sit back and wait for Harry to make his move. He already had, and she'd been stupid enough to mess it up.

"Even if I never make the team," she said, resting her hand on his arm. "Thank you."

He ducked his head. "You're welcome."

Taking a small step forward, she stood on her tiptoes and leaned toward him, pressing her lips firmly to his for a soft, slow kiss.

When she pulled her lips from his, he just stood there and watched her as she picked up her broom and her backpack. "I'll see you Thursday," she said, and Apparated away.

-----

"I need your help," Ginny said, as Florean brought two dishes of ice cream to the table.

"I heard a rumor," Tonks said bluntly in between bites of her sundae.

"What kind of rumor?" asked Ginny noncommittally.

"A rumor involving you and young Mr. Potter."

"How interesting," Ginny said, her eyes firmly on the ice cream.

"Don't you want to enlighten your old friend?" There was a distinct pout in Tonks' tone. "C'mon, fill me in."

Ginny took another bite of ice cream and tried not to laugh. When Tonks began making quiet kissing noises, she giggled. The noises steadily got louder and louder until Ginny was sure that the entire restaurant must be staring at them.

"All right, all right, I'll tell you, just shut up already!"

Tonks made a few more kissing noises before subsiding into silence.

"But you have to promise to help me with this spell I need."

"Anything," Tonks promised. "Now spill."

"He kissed me," Ginny said. "Or I kissed him, I'm not quite sure which. I was a little --" She glanced around the ice cream parlour, checking for young children. "I was a little drunk."

Tonks giggled. "So what happened? Did you…." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"No." Ginny looked down at the table, tracing intricate swirls on it with one finger. "We just snogged for a bit and then I, ah, got angry for some reason--"

Tonks laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, no, you didn't."

"I did," Ginny confirmed, blushing. "Anyway, I sort of, ah… stormed off in a huff."

Tonks snickered and Ginny shot her a dirty look before continuing.

"And yesterday we kissed again."

When she did not reply, Ginny looked up at her.

"And…" Tonks prompted. "Then what?"

"Then nothing. I've no idea what's going on."

"What do you think you want to happen?"

"Oh, I _know_ what I want to happen," Ginny assured her, scooping a fingerful of whipped cream off of her sundae and popping it in her mouth.

"Well, at least you've got your priorities straight," Tonks said, picking up a maraschino cherry from the sundae and looking at it thoughtfully. "But I expect more from you in the future." She screwed up her face in concentration and a moment later, her hair matched the cherry.

"So what's this about a spell, then?"

"I need a protection spell."

"Protection? I thought you were on the potion."

"Not like that, you doof. For my scar."

Tonks cocked one brilliantly red eyebrow questioningly. "Your scar? Just what are you planning to do with Mr. Potter?"

"Play Quidditch, actually," Ginny said coolly.

"Quidditch? On brooms?"

"No," teased Ginny. "On Thestrals. Yes, of course on brooms."

"You can fly?"

"Yup," Ginny said. "I can. And I'm pretty good." She realized as she said it that it was actually true.

"I suppose if Mad-Eye can…" Ginny nodded emphatically, and Tonks went on. "So, protection from Quidditch… Oh, Bludgers."

"Right," Ginny confirmed. "If one hits me there, I'll be done for." She indicated the area of her right leg just below her knee. "It's a miracle it didn't happen in the last game, actually."

"So, a protection spell that can be cast on part of your body…" Tonks mused. "And that won't disrupt the Bludgers during play, can't have that."

Ginny ate another spoonful of ice cream and watched silently as her friend mumbled to herself, suggesting and dismissing ideas just as quickly.

"Right," she said eventually, snapping her fingers. "I've got it. This is a pretty simple spell, only lasts for a few hours or so, so you'll have to cast it right before a match, but it should work. Give me your leg."

With no hesitation, Ginny swung her leg up and propped her foot on Tonks' thigh. Tonks pulled her wand, which seemed to be enchanted to match her hair, from her sleeve, and tapped Ginny's leg once.

"_Adversus_," she said softly, waving it over the area of Ginny's injury.

"Did it work?" Ginny asked, peering curiously at her leg.

"Only one way to find out," Tonks replied cheerfully, and reached across the table to grab Ginny's spoon from her dish. Holding it delicately between her thumb and forefinger, she balanced it carefully in her hand and then threw it deftly toward Ginny's injured leg.

The spoon flew straight through the air, with a swiftness and accuracy Ginny would not have expected from someone as clumsy as Tonks. It hit Ginny's leg right at the center of the center of the spiderweb of scars, but all Ginny felt was a firm impact, exactly as though it had struck something next to her leg.

"That's brilliant! Thanks."

"No problem. So, this for a little game with your brothers, or what?"

"Just a team I'm on with a few friends, is all," Ginny said. It was mostly true.

"When do you play?" Tonks asked with a gleam in her eye.

"Sundays."

"Brilliant," said Tonks, looking at her thoughtfully. "Are we gonna have to give up Fortescue's for this?"

"Never."

"Well, in that case," she said, helping herself to a generous spoonful. "Good luck."

-----

On Thursday, she Apparated to the park, unsure of what kind of reception she would get from Harry. They hadn't spoken since she'd kissed him goodbye, and she didn't know how he'd felt about it. Did he feel the same attraction that she did? The kiss he'd given her outside the pub, less than a week before, had left her breathless and weak in the knees, but how had it made him feel?

Harry was nowhere to be seen in the park when she got there, so she set down her things and mounted her broom, flying a few practice laps around the pitch. She was hovering above the field, feeling calm and comfortable, a few minutes later, when out of nowhere a hand grasped her shoulder.

She jerked around in surprise, but Harry's broom was right next to hers, giving her little room to maneuver.

"Hey there," he said, and she noticed that he was awfully close.

"Hey," she said.

"I have a new broom trick to teach you today," he announced, looking pleased with himself.

"Okay…" she said, wondering what he was getting at.

"You'll have to pay very close attention," he said.

She nodded silently. He reached across the few inches between them and rested one hand on her shoulder. His other hand came around and cupped her jaw, turning her face gently toward his.

It was obvious that he was about to kiss her, but she still felt surprised when it happened. This was not the tentative kiss of their last practice session, or the passionate and sloppy snog they'd shared on the sidewalk outside the bar. Instead, Harry seemed to be taking his time. His lips brushed across hers, then pressed more firmly, and when his tongue stroked her bottom lip, she opened her mouth to admit it.

Harry's hand slipped from her shoulder to trace a line all the way down her arm. He squeezed her hand gently where it rested on her knee, then moved up her thigh to exert gentle pressure, massaging her leg. She groaned lightly in the back of her throat, and buried her fingers in his hair as the kiss intensified.

As they kissed, she could feel him moving his head, changing the angle of the kiss. His hands moved over her arms and legs slowly, his touch first light and then firm. She could feel his leg pressing against hers, and it too moved periodically, as though he were squirming in place.

It was not until she felt something touch her opposite knee that she realized there was something strange going on.

She tore her lips away from his and opened her eyes, looking around with a gasp.

Kissing him had been so distracting and intoxicating that she had nearly forgotten that they were on brooms several meters in the air.

She looked down. Harry was very nearly sitting in her lap, his hands stroking along the lines of her thighs. He was straddling her broom, his knees spread far apart, locked outside of hers. His own broom was nowhere to be seen.

"What—" she sputtered. "How—"

He grinned, then leaned forward to kiss her gently on the mouth. "Ready to practice?"

Ginny swallowed. Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult to figure out how he felt about her after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Ginny walked to meet the team outside Quality Quidditch at noon that Sunday, feeling altogether different from the way she'd felt the week before. Then, she'd been unsure if she would even be able to play, much less keep from embarrassing herself. Now, she knew herself to be every bit as capable as her teammates, and not just that: she felt herself to be one of them. They might not have won the week before, but they had come together and worked hard, and Ginny herself had carried her share of the weight. She knew she was up to the challenge again.

Walking confidently down the cobblestoned street, she thought about one day being able to play Quidditch, and get paid for it. The thought was almost too wonderful to imagine.

Just a short while ago, she had been positive that she was unable to even fly a broom, and now she was planning to try out for a professional team. She felt a rush of gratitude toward Harry, for working so hard to help her, and for encouraging her until she felt up to the task. Licking her lips, she smiled to herself as she thought of ways she could thank him properly.

By the time she arrived at the store, the rest of her team members were already there, and they set off for the park together.

"You ready for today?" Katie asked.

"All set," Ginny said. "You?"

Katie gave her a funny look but nodded. "Me? I'm fine."

They arrived at the Apparition point then, and Ginny didn't have a chance to ask her what she meant. Once she got to the park, however, she had a good idea what Katie had been getting at.

Floating in midair on matching broomsticks, batting a Bludger back and forth between them, were a matched pair of redheaded Beaters.

Slowly, Ginny tore her eyes away from them and looked at the rest of the team. Ron stood near one of the picnic tables, his arm slung around the shoulders of a curvy witch with bright, cherry-red hair. Three other witches that she didn't recognize stood nearby, stretching.

"Too many bleedin' Gryffindors in this league," she heard Roger say quietly behind her.

"Got that right, mate," Bole grunted in agreement.

Ginny turned to Katie. "You knew about this!" she said accusingly, pointing at Fred and George on their brooms.

"Of course," Katie agreed. "Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Oh," she said unrepentantly. "Sorry."

"Yeah, I bet," Ginny muttered under her breath, hurrying towards the sideline where Tonks stood with her brother, entirely too close for casual conversation.

"I heard that!" Katie called after her.

Ginny made it almost all the way to the edge of the makeshift pitch before one of her brothers noticed her. Suddenly, she heard a voice from directly above her head.

"Hey Fred, our ickle baby sister has come to cheer us on!"

"Aww, how sweet! Here, Gin-Gin, I think you need these." Two large pom-poms appeared in the air and dropped to Ginny's feet. She stepped over them without a second look.

"I'm here to show you boys how it's done, actually," she said smoothly. "I think you could use the help." She set down her things and began to stretch, doing her best to look unconcerned.

When she finished, she mounted her broom and sailed up into the air.

"I'm hurt, little sister, that you are playing against your beloved brothers instead of for us," Fred said, flying over to her. 

"Next time, try telling me you have a team and maybe I'll consider it, Fred."

"I'm George," he responded automatically.

"No you're not, you twit. I can tell, you know."

Fred just laughed in response, and Ginny drew closer to him, so that their brooms were side by side.

"What's going on down there?" she asked, nodding toward Ron and Tonks.

"It's been like that for a couple weeks now," he replied. "That's all I know."

Ginny shook her head. "I'm going to kill her for not telling me."

"Speaking of which, how's Harry these days?" Fred asked. "Anything you want to tell me?"

"No," Ginny said stubbornly, ignoring his first question.

"He said he would stop by the pub after the game," Fred said casually. Ginny felt her insides lighten at the thought, and fought to keep a happy smile from spreading across her face. Fred must have noticed anyway, because he cackled loudly before suddenly veering away to rejoin his twin and the rest of the team, who seemed to be having some sort of conference at the opposite end of the pitch.

Ginny looked around for her own team and discovered that they, too, were huddled together at one end of the pitch, apparantly discussing strategy.

"Fraternizing with the enemy?" asked Felina teasingly when she arrived.

Ginny just laughed in response.

"Allright, team, listen up," Katie said. "We have a real shot at winning this game, so play well and we might be able to get some free drinks out of it." The team laughed appreciatively, and she waited for them to grow quiet before she went on. "The weak spot on this team is definitely Tonks, the Chaser with the bright red hair. She played Keeper in school, so she's a strong flyer but not as good with a Quaffle." Ginny nodded. Although she already knew that Tonks had played Keeper, she was thinking of her now as an opponent and not as a friend. "Ginny might be able to tell us more about her brothers out there," Katie said, startling her.

"Fred and George are really good Beaters, they work really well together," Ginny explained. "At home when we play, I usually try to stick close to an opposing player and also to have a lot of vertical movement when I fly—it confuses the Bludgers." She saw Roger and Katie nodding, and smiled. "Ron's all right, but he's weaker on his right side," she explained. "He knows all my tricks, so maybe you guys…" Roger nodded again, and she knew he'd caught her suggestion. She felt vaguely guilty for discussing Ron's weaknesses like this, but if they won, it would be worthwhile.

The game started out slowly, with neither team gaining an advantage, but Ginny soon found a profitable angle. She flew up the field with the Quaffle, intentionally imitating the unsophisticated, unsubtle style she'd used when she first played against Ron. She approached the goal hoops on his stronger left side, then passed swiftly to Roger, who scored easily before Ron could cross to the other hoop. She exchanged a grin with him before diving breathlessly back into the game.

They used the formula twice more to great effect. Ron blocked Roger's next shot on goal easily, however, and Ginny knew she had to think of something new.

She remembered the obvious Porskoff Ploy she'd witnessed at the championship game, and she signalled Roger on a time out. He nodded quickly, and the next time the Quaffle came into her posession, she flew clumsily up the middle of the field, rising high into the air above the middle hoop. She was counting on Ron to discount his baby sister's flying ability, and he did just as she expected. When Roger got into position, she faked a pass to him and then swerved to her right and shot past Ron, even as he dove across the hoops in a failed attempt to block her.

Roger looked surprised and a little put out, and she realized that he had probably been expecting a real Porskoff Ploy, but she was too excited to worry about his feelings right then. Elated, she flew low over his head in a swooping, diving barrel-roll that left her hair tangled and her head spinning. When she was done and before she rushed to play defense, she glanced back at Roger and saw an appreciative smile cross his face.

Tonks, as predicted, was terrible. Whenever the Quaffle was passed to her, Katie reached in and stole it away. Eventually she simply flew nearby and Tonks panicked and dropped the ball. Katie reached out and grabbed the Quaffle, reversing neatly and streaking down the field in the direction of the goal.

Ginny spun around a split-second later and flew parallel to her, watching for defensive players and trying to keep them from getting near the Quaffle. A Bludger streaked toward Katie and she dove quickly, passing to Roger. He passed to Ginny, who passed quickly back to Katie. As she approached the goal hoops, Ginny and Roger pulled up to avoid crowding the Keeper and watched as Ron deflected Katie's shot. The three Chasers traded disappointed glances and turned slowly to rejoin the game.

Pausing to brush a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, Ginny squinted into the rich, golden light of the afternoon sun at the other players. It must be getting quite late, she realized, if the sun was so low in the sky. Her teammates looked like they were feeling the effects of the long game: many of them were flying slower than usual, and there had been several dropped balls recently. Only the Bludgers were still flying with their normal energy, now.

As the game went on and the sun dropped lower, Ginny began to feel a little desperate. She wished there was something she could do to end the match, but of course there was nothing. Only the Seekers could end the match, and only by catching the Snitch, which was nowhere to be seen.

The sooner the game was over, the sooner she could see Harry. She could already picture his crooked smile, his shining, messy hair, and the feel of his arms around her waist. A huge smile spread across her face at the thought.

"Oi, Weasley!" called a masculine voice from above.

She turned her head and realized with a start that the game had been going on without her. Shaking her head to clear it of daydreams, she flew to rejoin her teammates near the center of the pitch.

She watched as Roger intercepted a pass, and started moving slowly up the pitch with the Quaffle. Heaving a sigh, she moved into flight opposite him, and he passed to her. Holding the Quaffle lightly between her hands, she flew toward Ron, then dropped and dodged toward the left hoop, then the right. At the last moment, she flew up out of the goal area and passed to Roger, who was behind her. Surprised, he almost dropped the pass, but recovered well, and shot smoothly at the center hoop. The Quaffle soared easily through the hoop without any interference from Ron, and at the same moment a loud cheer went up from the other players on the pitch.

Ginny frowned. That was odd. At the beginning of the game, the players had cheered when their team scored a goal, but as the game went on and on, the excitement level declined until only a few players clapped when their Chasers scored. Now it sounded as though every player on the pitch was cheering.

She turned her broom slowly, looking over the rest of the pitch, and saw her team in a tight knot at the center of the pitch.

"Felina's got the Snitch," Roger commented, seeing her confusion.

"Oh, good," Ginny said, relieved.

Roger laughed dryly, and she realized that perhaps she should have sounded more excited.

"Shall we go celebrate, then?"

"Why not?"

They flew together toward the other players, who by now had dropped to the grassy pitch. Everyone looked as tired and relieved as she felt, Ginny noticed.

"Drinks on us tonight," George called to the group, and a weary cheer went up.

The players began drifting over to the sidelines, and Ginny followed them, limping slightly and feeling her muscles ache from so long in the air.

She picked up her things quickly and made her way toward the apparition point alone. Although she started earlier, the other players, unsaddled with injuries, caught up quickly. As she walked, she felt a hand clap heavily on her left shoulder, but when she turned her head, there was no one there. Looking to her other side quickly, she saw Roger's handsome face smiling at her, one dimple showcased on his tanned cheek.

"Hey there," she said, smiling back at him, glad that the game was over and at the prospect of seeing Harry at the pub.

"Good game today," he said, his hand still resting on her shoulder and not moving.

"Thanks," she said shortly, starting to feel just a little bit uncomfortable.

"I only saw you play a couple of times at Hogwarts," he said. "But I didn't remember you being this good." He had slowed his pace, perhaps to keep up with her hobbled stride, and the rest of the groups went past them toward the apparition point.

"Erm, thank you," she said again. "But I haven't actually played much since—"

He placed one hand underneath her chin, and her spine stiffened. She took a little step backwards, but his arm was behind her back and he must not have gotten the hint.

"I don't remember you being so pretty, either," he said smoothly.

She opened her mouth to respond, although she didn't know what to say, and he leaned in and placed his lips against hers, massaging her mouth with his and pulling her closer to him in his arms.

Ginny just stood still, frozen with surprise. After a moment, Roger must have realized that she was not responding to his kiss, and he stepped back. She pressed her fingers to her lips, unsure of what to say or do.

"What's wrong?" Roger asked, running a hand through his dark brown hair, which was always perfectly coifed. "Oh no, you have a boyfriend, don't you?"

"Erm, kinda, yeah," Ginny agreed after a moment's hesitation. "Yeah."

"Damn," he swore. "Why do all the good ones always have boyfriends?"

Despite herself, Ginny laughed.

Roger ran his hand through his hair again and looked down at her. "I'm sorry, Ginny," he said, a bit stiffly. "It won't happen again."

"That's okay," she said. "Let's go get a drink, okay?"

"Sure," he said. "And if things don't work out…"

"I'll be sure to let you know," she said, thinking that that was rather unlikely.

He smiled ruefully at her and they went on to the pub.

She stepped inside ahead of Roger, looking around eagerly for Harry. The place was fairly empty, and so she could see at first glance that he was not there. She sighed, feeling disappointed and much less excited about spending the evening packed into a noisy pub with a bunch of sweaty Quidditch players.

Tonks was sitting alone at the end of the bar, drinking something with a large umbrella sticking out of it. Surprised, Ginny looked around the pub again, and realized that Ron was not there either.

Sliding onto the stool next to Tonks, she signaled the bartender for one of the umbrella-decorated concoctions.

"Where's Ron?" she asked.

Tonks looked up at her with an odd expression on her face, a mix of guilt and anger and thoughtfulness, but did not say a word.

"Tonks?" Ginny asked again. "Where's Ron?"

Tonks took a long sip of her drink, and the bartender brought Ginny's over, plunking it down on the bar in front of her and spilling some over the side. The umbrella in her glass wobbled and fell slowly into the alcoholic puddle.

"You didn't hear it from me," Tonks said finally, and then fell silent.

Ginny sat still for a moment, certain of what Tonks was about to say but unwilling to let her mind come to that conclusion. Finally, when neither of them spoke, she broke down.

"What? What is it?"

"Ron and I ran into Harry," she said slowly, as if she did not want to tell the story. "And he seemed upset."

"When?" asked Ginny, feeling as though this conversation was not happening to her but was just something that had happened to someone else, a very long time ago.

"Just now," Tonks said. "After the game."

"And?"

"And he saw you kissing Roger, Ginny, what were you thinking?" she hissed angrily.

"I—I wasn't—" Ginny stammered, wanting to explain what had really happened with Roger and remembering desperately that she had been thinking of Harry the entire time.

Tonks looked down into her brightly colored drink. "Harry is my friend too, you know," she said, which didn't really explain anything but also sort of did. "You do what you want, but he's my friend too."

Ginny stood and limped out of the bar and onto the street without another word.

The night was balmy, and the streets felt full of life. As she walked, she could hear music drifting from open windows, the loud babble of conversation emanating from pubs and bars she passed. Cars passed her occasionally, whirring and crashing along the streets beside her. Cigarette smoke drifted on the breeze. Above the buildings, she could see nothing but plain black sky, the clouds obscured by buildings and streetlamps.

She saw all of this, but didn't really take it in. Walking down the street, she simply let it all slip by. Occupied entirely with her own thoughts, she did not have energy or attention to spare for the rest of the world.

She had pushed Roger away because of Harry, and he had seen and misunderstood. She ought to contact Harry and explain, but she didn't know when or how. Tonight, her brother would be there, and would probably not be helpful. But if she waited until tomorrow, he would just have had more time to think about it, and get upset. It would have to be tonight.

She arrived at her building, slightly surprised that she had gotten there so fast, and walked carefully up the stairs to her apartment. Her leg ached by the time that she got in, and she was reminded of the reason that she usually Apparated places.

Taking a deep breath, she kneeled down in front of the fireplace. She kindled a fire and threw a handful of Floo powder onto it, watching the flames dance with multicolored light.

"Harry Potter," she said clearly, and thrust her head into the flames. The world spun around her for a moment, leaving her with the strange feeling that her head and her body were no longer connected to each other, and then the spinning slowed and ground to a halt in the shape of Harry's living room.

He was sitting on the sofa, with his head cradled in his hands. Two empty teacups sat on the coffee table in front of him, but she didn't see Ron in the room with him.

"Harry?" she asked, and he looked up at her slowly.

"What?" he replied simply, his voice low and gravelly.

"It wasn't what it looked like," she blurted quickly, wincing inwardly at how silly and clichéd she sounded.

"I don't think this was a good idea," Harry said wearily, as though he hadn't heard her at all.

She waited until he spoke again, and immediately wished she hadn't.

"It was just another mistake." He sounded so bitter and unhappy that she could almost feel it in the air.

"I was there too, you know," she responded angrily. "Are you just going to roll over and play dead without giving it a chance at all?"

He set his jaw stubbornly. "You should go," he said, waving his hand in her direction. Before she could speak again, the flames in her own fireplace sputtered and died, breaking the connection.

She tried desperately to light the fire again, but the flames that shot out of her wand crackled but did not light. Without a fire, she could not contact him by Floo, and eventually she gave up, sitting back on her heels and staring wordlessly at the grate.

A slow pain was building in her chest, as though someone had reached inside of her and ripped something out. Her eyes blinked slowly, and she wished that there were tears spilling over them and dripping over her cheeks. She might feel better if she could cry about this, but for some unknown reason even that was denied her.

She sat there, in front of the fireplace, for what felt like hours, until she could no longer feel her feet. When she finally tried to stand, she found that she couldn't, and retreated only as far as the sofa, where she fell asleep quickly.

When she woke, the first thing she saw was the cold fireplace, and then she wept. Quietly, softly, large tears rolled down her cheeks and were absorbed by the cushion beneath her cheek.

-----

On Tuesday evening, although she was still heartsore, she locked up the bookstore on the stroke of five, and Apparated to the park. It might have been habit that made her go, or it might have been the blind hope that he would come too. As soon as she got there, however, she realized that he would not be coming. She sat down to wait anyway.

The environment of the park was cool and soothing. In her mind, Ginny replayed the memory of the last time she had been here with Harry, hovering in the air high above the pitch, bodies interlocked on one broom.

The summer sky was still bright blue at this hour, lit with the last of the sun's rays. She tipped her head back and stared up past the treetops into the sky, thinking about the feeling of flying up there.

Now Harry was gone, and she was here alone. She thought again of contacting him, of trying to explain. The closed-off look on his face had been very clear, however.

She thought about crying, about how she hadn't been able to cry while they were actually talking, and about how she had woken up the next morning with salt-water tracks across her face. When she looked up into the sky and felt the light summer breeze in her hair, though, she didn't actually want to cry.

Her broom was propped against the table where she sat, and it looked awfully inviting. The sky was clear, the wind was blowing, and it was a perfect day for Quidditch.

Whatever happened, Ginny knew that Harry was wrong. This had not been a mistake. He had given her back a part of her life that she'd given up as lost a long time ago.

She rose quickly into the air on her broom, cradling the Quaffle in one arm. As she did so, she smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

On the day of tryouts, the sun rose slowly over the horizon, tinting the wispy clouds with vivid colors of pink and gold. Ginny Apparated outside the gates of the Chudley stadium and looked up at them, too tired to appreciate their beauty.

She walked slowly up the hill toward the stadium's doors. She knew her limp was evident, but couldn't bring herself to care. If she actually made the team, they'd find out eventually.

When she reached the door, a wizard with salt-and-pepper hair and a clipboard met her at the door.

"Tryouts are closed," he said sternly.

Ginny felt her mouth grow dry. "Closed?"

"No spectators."

"Oh," she breathed, relieved. "I'm here to try out."

He looked down at her leg, with a doubtful look on his face. "You're trying out?" he repeated.

"Yes," she said, swallowing hard. In all her worrying and practicing, it had never occurred to her that she would not be allowed to have her chance with everyone else.

He looked her over slowly. The moment seemed to take forever, and she felt her insides harden with dread. Finally he shrugged and looked down at his clipboard. "Name and position?"

"Ginny Weasley. Chaser."

"Weasley?" he asked, looking at her intently. "I went to school with a Weasley."

Ginny fought the urge to roll her eyes, and nodded instead.

"Arthur Weasley," he went on. "Two years above me."

"Arthur is my dad," Ginny said politely.

"Oh, is that so?" he asked, beaming. "Well, good luck today, Miss Weasley." For a moment, it looked as though he was going to say something more, but he just handed her a slim packet of papers. "Changing rooms are down the hall on your left."

"Thank you," she said, walking past him to the changing rooms, painfully aware of the solid lump of impending doom in her stomach.

There were four other women in the locker room in various states of undress. All of them looked healthier, more athletic, and more energetic than she felt. Certainly none of them walked with a pronounced limp or had enormous multicolored scars on their legs. Likely none of them had any problems simply being admitted to the stadium. These were not the only people she would be competing with, either. There would be men trying out as well, probably more of them. And she would need to be better than all those people in order to make the team.

Ginny was halfway out of her everyday robes when it occurred to her that the judges might not even pay attention to the way she played. Their minds might have been made up already when she limped up to the gates.

"What the hell am I doing here?" she whispered, resting her forehead against the cool metal of the locker door. Her insides fluttered uncomfortably, and for a moment she felt as though she was about to be sick.

A dark-skinned witch walked past her out the door, with muscles rippling across her back and down her arms. She looked as fit and confident as Ginny was not.

Ginny wrapped her arms around her torso in a lonely embrace and reminded herself what it had felt like to sink a shot through a goal hoop past the league's top Keeper. She'd played with Bole, who was a professional Beater. And Harry Potter had drilled her on flying technique. How many of these other women could say the same?

Dressing slowly and carefully, she listened to the quiet rustling sounds of the other women dressing and getting their things together, and slowly calmed down. Regardless of the way she walked, she knew she could fly and play well. The work she'd put in and the time she'd spent had not been a waste. She would do this. Whether or not she made the team was up to the judges, but the quality of her play today was up to her, and she would not back down.

Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she left the locker room.

-----

When she stepped out of the darkened corridors into the bright light of the pitch, she was greeted by the sight of a sky seemingly full of players. Zipping, zooming, and flipping above the pitch, tossing and batting balls of various sizes back and forth, their constant movement seemed to magnify their numbers.

Ginny walked slowly onto the field slowly and noticed the owner, Dan, standing on the sideline with his hands clasped in front of his rounded stomach, looking pleased. The older wizard who had met her at the gate stood attentively next to him. As she made her way across the open grass, she saw both men turn to look at her, their heads tilted close together. Dan's assistant said something and then pointed at his clipboard. Dan nodded solemnly and said something in reply, and the other man nodded.

The hard mass in Ginny's stomach seemed to be growing in size, and she tore her eyes away.

Directly ahead of her in the center of the field was a rack holding several racing brooms and other equipment. Next to the rack stood a familiar-looking figure with blonde hair.

When she got close enough, Ginny called out to her.

"Katie?"

She seemed to jump as she turned toward the sound of her name.

"Ginny? What are you doing here?"

"I'm trying out," Ginny answered. "Don't tell me you're here to ruin my chances." She said it jokingly, but she felt a sliver of fear shoot through her heart as she spoke.

To her relief, though, Katie just laughed. "Oh no," she said. "I'm here representing the store." She gestured to the rack of shining, top-of the line equipment. "We're an official league sponsor, so the Cannons are borrowing some stuff from the store for the tryouts. That way everyone has the same broom."

"So I get to use one of those? Brilliant."

Katie grinned and held out a broomstick. "Good luck!"

Ginny smiled back and mounted her broom slowly, as she usually did, careful not to forget herself and push off with her bad leg. Although she'd already cast the protective charm on it, she didn't want to push her luck. She rose quickly into the air, the wind whipping her hair against the sides of her face and pushing her eyelids closed.

When she opened her eyes again, the other players still dove and darted through the air, but this time she was on a level with them. She flew a circuit around the pitch, paying careful attention to the feel of the broom, accustoming herself to its acceleration speed and turning radius.

Around her, the empty stadium seemed huge. Each player's shout and each Bludger's impact echoed from the rows of bleachers, normally filled with spectators. She remembered vividly the last time she'd been there, when she and Harry had flown over those stands and onto the pitch, and she'd sunk a goal past him. Although she hadn't spoken to him in a week, since he cut off her Floo as she tried to make amends, she still felt a pang of sadness.

She tried hard not to look over the other players trying out, but her eyes kept drifting to the busy figures near her. Were they better than her? Would they take the place she was here to claim?

A shrill whistle sounded from the ground, and she turned swiftly in place. A muscular wizard in orange robes motioned broadly, and she heard his magically-amplified voice sound through the stadium.

"All those trying out, over here please." He raised his wand and shot orange sparks from it into the air.

Ginny flew towards him, surrounded by other hopeful players.

"We'll start with some basic drills," he said, in a very businesslike manner. "All players, please."

He waved his wand and long columns of blue light appeared on the pitch. Ginny's heart soared. She might have limped onto the pitch this morning, but she knew beyond any doubt that she could do this drill as well as anyone.

Sure enough, when the first players began, she saw many of the other players flew slowly through the course, stumbling and hesitating often. When it was her turn, Ginny dove right in without worry, darting easily into each glowing pillar. Her muscles hummed with energy, and her mind felt clear. She completed one circuit of the pitch, and when she pulled up into the group of prospective players at the end, she found that they were looking at her with a mixture of fear and respect.

On the ground, she saw Dan and his assistant talking. Dan was gesturing broadly with his hands, and the other man was scribbling on his clipboard. Even from this distance, she could see the flash of teeth on both of their faces as they smiled. It was her performance in this drill that had done that, that had made them smile. For the first time since she'd entered the stadium, she felt the knot of fear inside her subside a little, and her shoulders relaxed.

The burly wizard in orange sent them through the course several more times, with different variations. Each time she flew through the dancing bars of light, Ginny felt her confidence grow and her stomach lighten a little.

Eventually, the wizard waved his wand again, making the glowing pillars disappear. All the players turned to look at him and he blew his whistle. "Your attention, please," he said unnecessarily. "Beaters, over there please." He gestured vaguely toward the edge of the pitch on his left side. "Seekers, the other side. Chasers and Keepers, stay here."

About half of the wizards and several intimidating-looking witches flew off in the direction he'd indicated for the Beaters, and three rather slight players darted toward the opposite end. The dark, muscular witch Ginny had noticed in the locker room turned her broom slightly, but stayed where she was, and Ginny bit her lip.

"Who'd want to play backup for Harry Potter?" muttered a blond wizard near Ginny, and several people laughed quietly. Ginny felt another pang of sadness at the sound of Harry's name, stronger and more insistent this time. The wizard in the orange robes looked sternly at them, and a hush spread over the group.

"My name is Frank Federov," he announced. "I am the Cannons' Assistant Offensive Coordinator in charge of Chasers. I'll be overseeing your tryout today. We have a lot of spots to fill, so let's get going."

Frank divided the Chaser candidates into two groups and set them to a simple pass-and-shoot drill on either end of the pitch while he talked to the potential Keepers. Ginny moved automatically through the drill, one she'd run countless times at Hogwarts and even before. The players around her seemed equally comfortable, although once a Keeper rose into position in front of the hoop, many of the shots began to be deflected.

Ginny watched the Keeper candidates closely. None of them were close to Wood in terms of skill or finesse, and she'd sunk several goals past him the last time they'd played. When it was her turn, she approached the hoops smoothly, passing the ball between her right and left hands. She drew closer and pulled back her left arm as though she was about to shoot. She flinched, the Keeper dove to protect the closest hoop, and Ginny passed the Quaffle easily to her other hand and sunk it smoothly through the center hoop, before turning and flying back to rejoin the group of Chaser candidates.

The next Keeper hopeful was better, and she blocked Ginny's shot, but it was a close thing. Only a few Quaffles sailed past her, all on her left side. On the next go-round, Ginny approached her quickly from that side, dipping down and then flying upwards toward the hoop. The Keeper kept her eyes fixed on Ginny's and was not fooled by her initial feint to the right. Swooping close to the hoop, Ginny threw the Quaffle with all her might toward the outer edge of the left goal hoop. The girl dove, and her fingers brushed the Quaffle. It spun out of its smooth course and struck the metal edge of the hoop with a loud clang, but bounced through. As she flew back to the group, Ginny heard the Keeper swear.

Frank's whistle sounded shrilly across the pitch again, accompanied by his amplified voice. "Seekers, continue with what you're doing. Beaters, Chasers, and Keepers to me." Quickly, he indicated the first Keeper Ginny had gone up against, who she thought was the weakest, and sent him to the goalpost. Then he selected three Chasers and two Beaters and sent them up into the air as well, directing them to play a half-pitch game.

Ginny looked at the players on the pitch and then at the group assembled around her. The group on the pitch was obviously smaller, slower, and less experienced. Play continued for several minutes before Frank blew his whistle again.

"Thank you," he said loudly. "That will be all. We'll be in touch." The players flew off the pitch, looking rather dejected.

Frank selected another group of players and sent them in to repeat the exercise, and then another. The player next to Ginny flew into the game, and Ginny looked past where he'd been, meeting the eyes of the dark-skinned witch from the locker room, who nodded grimly. Ginny nodded back before looking out at the game being played before her. Although she tried to maintain the same stony expression, she felt the corners of her mouth twitch, threatening to break out in a huge smile.

Finally, after all the other players had been and gone, Frank sent Ginny and the other witch into the game, along with a wiry wizard in glasses.

Once in the game, Ginny's suspicions were confirmed. The other two Chasers were clearly better than those who had gone before. They passed easily and dodged Bludgers gracefully. And she had been sent in with them. As she swerved away from a big Beater, the smile that had been close to the surface of her face broke through, and she didn't bother to hide it. Pride and happiness bubbled up inside of her as she caught and threw, and even the loud whistle that split the air did not dampen her spirits any.

"Thank you," Frank said warmly. "We'll be in touch."

Flying away, she grinned widely at the other two Chasers. The dark-skinned witch merely nodded as she had before, but the wizard smiled back, looking as excited as Ginny felt. The late-afternoon sun glinted off his glasses, and in the midst of her happiness, an intense sense of loss shot through Ginny, amplified by the intensity of her pleasure.

She knew she had done well, and that she ought to be thrilled, but the strangeness of their faces struck Ginny like a Bludger. She felt her happiness draining away, and in its place rose an overwhelming sadness. By the time she reached the ground, she was blinking back tears.

"Great job," Katie said with a smile as she handed back her broom, but Ginny could only nod mutely and hurry away.

The locker room was one large gray and orange blur, and she had to wipe her eyes with her sleeve to see. When she finally could, she grabbed her street clothes and stuffed them quickly into her bag, not bothering to change out of her sweaty workout gear. Tears rolled across her face as she ran awkwardly to the Apparition point.

She drew her wand, and felt her breath hitch in her throat. In the next moment, the stadium disappeared and she was enveloped by nothingness. An instant later, she was standing on the front stoop of a small house in Hogsmeade.

She dropped her bag with a loud _thump_ and stepped toward the door.

"Harry?" she called, knocking firmly. "Harry, are you there?" She knocked again. "Harry, please come out, please." It had been less than a minute, but she was already feeling panicked and desperate.

Just when she felt the fear inside her begin to spin out of control, the door opened.

"Hi," he said simply, without a trace of emotion. He held the door only partially open, so that his body blocked the room behind him.

"Hi," Ginny said back, her mind blank and empty. What on earth had she been planning to say to him?

"The tryout was today," she said. His face stayed blank.

It felt to Ginny as though something crumbled inside her.

"I did really well," she said, in a rush. "And I wanted to share it with you. That's all." She felt herself gathering speed. "That's all I ever wanted. And I didn't kiss Roger, he kissed me, not that you care." By now, tears were rolling down her face. "I worked really hard and it was all because of you, that I even went today at all, and I really wished you were there, and… and… and…"

She gave a great gasping sob and sniffled. A tear fell from her cheek and landed on her hand with a splash.

"I'll go now," she said quietly, and leaned to pick up her bag.

"Wait." His voice sounded husky and gravelly.

Standing uncertainly, she left her bag where it was and watched him walk across the small porch towards her.

"Ginny, I—" he said, and then stopped. He didn't say anything else then, but his face looked as though he were searching for words. Another tear slid across her cheek.

"Here, now, don't cry," he said. He extended one arm toward her and brushed his fingertips across her damp face, wiping away the tears.

Lips followed fingers, and soon he was dropping soft kisses all over her cheeks.

"I wish," he whispered between kisses, "I wish I was there too."

When he reached her mouth, she kissed him back hard, wrapping her arms around him as if she would never let him go. She leaned into the kiss, pouring herself into him, giving him everything she could. He held her tightly, and she felt the rest of the world disappear as it had when they Apparated together.

Breaking the kiss, he pressed his cheek to hers and spoke softly into her ear. "I will be," he said. "From now on, I will be there."


End file.
